


Curious Dib

by mc1303



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Gen, ZADF
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2018-10-31 13:11:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 53,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10900044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mc1303/pseuds/mc1303
Summary: After several years Dib's questions are finally being answered by an annoyed Zim.





	1. Appearance

**Author's Note:**

> This is currently considered a short story, and I am not sure when it will ever be 'complete', if ever. Regardless, I hope you enjoy reading it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fic is years in the making, and I took a five year break, so the writing quality may jump ahead at some point, I am not sure. This work is considered a short story, and I'm not sure it will ever be considered 'complete'. Enjoy!

Three years. That's how long it had been since Zim had practically stopped trying to conquer the Earth. They may not have been friends, per say, but more like tolerated acquaintances if anything else. Sure, he still tried every now and then, but they both knew that without the Irken Armada, Zim wouldn't be able to keep control of the Earth anyway.

Several times Zim had pondered leaving and finding a quiet place to live out the rest of his days; traveling from time to time. But all the Irken supplies automatically sent to him were sent to his base. He was stuck here. To him, Earth had become another exile; perhaps one more suited for him according to his Tallest. He didn't mind most of the time. He had grown quite accustomed to the Earth's wilderness. The smell appealed to him. Often, he wondered what the nonexistent forests on Irk had been like. Just as he had told Dib once upon a time: 

"You have plants on your planet?" Dib had asked.

"What kind of a stupid question is that?"

"I mean, what kind of plants do you have?" Dib asked again; ignoring the insult.

"None. Irk was converted to all metal and buildings a long time ago. Before my time," Zim had answered.

After the few years that passed; Zim came to the conclusion that the Dib-stink's curiosity had grown too great to hold back anymore. He had begun asking as many questions as possible between fights that came ever more infrequently.

The last real fight was over a year ago. The last "scuttle" was just a few months prior about their height. Dib had had a growth-spurt, and therefore physical bullying had gone down. Not that it stopped the verbal abuse. But any physical harm at all came from the very few physical fights the two had. Zim had gotten angry with Dib bragging about his own height difference while Zim had grown barely over a foot. Gravitational difference had been the major, if not only, factor. Zim had give Dib a black eye and several bruises; while he himself had gone away with nothing but detention.

Finally Zim broke down. He was sitting in a tree, his leg hanging off the branch lazily when Dib found him. "Hey Zim!" Zim groaned and looked down at the human. "I got a question!"

"You always have a question, Dib-stink!" Zim shouted back down. It was very nearly one in the morning. Zim had used his voot runner to go out into the forest and enjoy the night air without worry of his disguise; which he had off. And had been hoping to get away from the questioning Dib for at least a while. Now it had backfired. "Answer one of mine. How did you find me?"

"I was looking at the sky when I saw you fly for the trees," he answered immediately. "Now my turn!"

"Oh, Irk," Zim groaned, sitting straighter in the branch.

"Can I join you?"

Zim looked down at him in surprise. Not a question about Irkens or Zim himself for once? Zim sighed and considered it for a moment. He figured it couldn't hurt anything anymore and extended a mechanical leg. Before Dib could grab onto it, the leg's pointed ends grabbed under his shirt collar and hoisted him up onto the branch. "Whoa! Haha, cool!"

Zim hid the smile and sat Dib down across from him. As he steadied himself Zim started picking at the hem of his gloves. Dib studied the three fingers hidden by the leather-like material. Zim eyed him and could just feel the question forming in his mouth. "What?"

"Can I see your claws?" Dib asked. Zim's antennae perked, the equivalent of a raised eyebrow. He pulled off his gloves and held out his hands, letting Dib examine them. He dozed out for a while until he felt a tug on his wrist. Dib was turning his hand over in his own and moving the fingers this way and that.

"Interesting.." he mumbled. Zim's eye twitched a bit as Dib continued to move the claws and test the sharpness.

"Dib." Dib ignored the call of his name and picked at one of the claws. Zim gave a tug and Dib let his hand go. "If it were not for these gloves you'd have many more scars."

"Really?" Dib asked skeptically. Zim narrowed his eyes and ran his hand along the tree, easily scrapping deep cuts into the bark. "OH."

"Yes," Zim said simply, replacing his gloves.

"What about your pak? That's what you call it, right?" Dib asked.

"Yes. It is what keeps me alive-"

"Alive?! It's your life system, or something like that? Were you born with it? Did you have to have it put on? I noticed a lot of Irkens have it, even your leaders. Does it hurt to lean against the tree with it protruding like tha-"

"Stop!" Zim shouted, covering his antennae, which had flattened against his skull. "Your babbling is irritating the great Zim!"

"Sorry."

Zim sighed. "YES. It is what is keeping me alive. If removed I die in ten minutes of your Earth time. We are not born with them. They are attached after we leave the tube. Metal chords, or cabels as they more accurately are defined by your dictionary, are attached to our spine to keep them anchored."

Zim enjoyed the disgusted face Dib gave before continuing. "It holds memory, countless amounts of information that it automatically records, it holds my personality, tools, and my extra limbs."

"EXTRA limbs? What extra limbs?"

"The spider-like legs I use to climb and such things,' Zim explained.

"Those aren't organic, though!"

"They are still considered limbs."

"Okay, what about your antennae?"

"Expression, hearing, gender-"

"You tell whether an Irken is female or male by the antennae? How?"

"Stop interrupting me," Zim stated. Dib nodded an agreeing and waited for Zim's response.

"A female's are more... decorative than a males. But most females also have purple eyes, not crimson."

Dib's curiosity soared, despite finally being answered. The feeling of finally nowing more about Irkens other than weaknesses was an amazing feeling. He racked his brain for another quiestion he had always wanted to ask. "How about your feet?"

"What?" Zim gave Dib a strange look to accompany the odd question. "What about Zim's feet?"

"You have toes? Are they clawed, too?"

"...You're very odd, Dib-stink," Zim said, starting to remove his boot. Dib again ignored the insult turned nickname and looked at the foot. There wasn't much room in the small boots, so it made sense that there weren't very many toes if any at all. Two on each foot.

"Cool," Dib said, looking at them. Before he could grab the foot as well, Zim replaced his boot.

"Anything else?" he asked. Dib tilted his head.

"Hmm..... Nope. Not yet. Maybe tomorrow, when I think of more," Dib said. "Can you let me down? We're pretty far up."

Zim's mechanical leg hoisted Dib up and back to the forest floor. As he ran off toward the city. Zim waited for several more minutes before climbing back down himself. He removed his gloves and began to climb down, using the mechanical legs for extra support to keep from falling.


	2. Biology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter delved into Irken biology much more, and when I initially wrote this fic (being posted here as well as ff.net) the deviantart I got most of the information from a fellow fan whose DA account is now deactive. It was a comprehensive list of all (I believe canon) Irken biology I used as ref when I wrote this. Sadly, because it's deleted now, I can't link the post or go back for further reference on canon biology for Irkens. I can't find any other reference for canon biology, so everything else is speculation and headcanons after this chapter.
> 
> Regardless, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Dib had kept his promise, regrettably, and knocked on Zim's door the next day. He had been sitting comfortably on the couch, the relaxed feeling from the night before spoiled slightly by Dib's "interrogation" session. Zim was kicking his feet when the knock came. The computer's voice droned over the room. "It's Dib.."

"Dib-stink?" Zim had asked, and jumped off the couch.

Dib was swaying, bored, on his feet as he waited for Zim to open the door. When he did Zim was hiding behind the wood, his disguise already taken off for the day. Dib walked in and turned to see Zim close the door behind him.

"What do you want, Dib-stink?" Zim asked. Ignoring the insults yet again Dib sat on the couch, seeing Gir sitting in the kitchen looking at the wall on the table.

"What's wrong with Gir?" he asked.

"He's turned off. Usually I talk with him for a while, but his screaming was too annoying the other day; and I have yet to turn him back on again," Zim said, hoping to answer any other Gir related questions that had formed before they could be ask. He had been expecting Dib at some point, but immediate questioning after just the night before was a bit much and he didn't know if Dib's new interrogation would lessen his impatience, or heighten it.

"Oh. Understandable, I guess. So, I just had more questions, and-"

"It's obvious you have more questions; you haven't given up in asking them for QUITE a while," Zim stressed. He shot Dib a look that said he should cut to the chase and avoid any unneeded questions. "What do you want to know now?"

"Well... biological things," Dib said. "For instan-"

"What do you mean exactly by... biological," Zim asked. He stressed the final word; his posture clearly showing he wasn't pleased by the term. His antennae fell flat against the top of his skull and his eyes narrowed dangerously. Dib stopped himself from gulping and held eye contact, refusing to back down.

"Just tell me if I'm getting too... personal. I don't know anything about Irken biology. You can even ask me questions if you want!" Dib hastily added; trying to avoid another death glare. If looks had ever killed Zim's glares would've committed multiple murders by now.

"...Fine," Zim spat. He sat down on the couch reluctantly. They each sat on opposite sides of the sofa. Dib squirmed uncomfortably in the silence. Not even the television was turned on. A bird chirped and Dib turned to Zim.

"So! Um... I dunno... I guess my first question would be... since I haven't seen under your uniform in any way..." Zim gave him a look and Dib looked in front of him hurriedly. "Uh! M-my question was... do you have any.. I dunno, any kind of natural armor?"

"... You have very odd questions, Dib-stink," Zim commented. As Dib turned to give a retort, Zim continued. "No, we Irkens don't have any natural armor. I assume your reference would be an... arm.. arma..."

"Armadillo."

"Yes, armadillo. The armored ball that is an animal. Irkens have no need for any sort of armor. Our paks and weaponry are all we need."

"So you're just skin? Like a human?"

"I am not human," Zim stated.

"I know. But, you're all skin like one."

"..Yes, I am."

"What are your antennae for?" Dib asked. He reached over to touch one, and Zim hissed, smacking his hand away.

"NEVER touch them," he ordered. Dib quickly sat back, his hands under his legs.

"Sorry! Sorry! But, what are they for?" he asked again.

"Hearing, expression… I told you all this already!" Zim shouted. "Don't ask a question I have already answered!"

"Then what do they feel like?" Dib asked. He considered reaching for them again, but stopped suddenly when he saw Zim's antennae flatten against his skull. "What's that mean?"

"It means I'm close to mutilating you," Zim answered. Dib pursed his lips. "..Anger. Irritation. Annoyance. Any negative feelings are expressed when they are flattened. This includes sadness."

Dib nodded, knowing Zim had only gone into a further explanation to keep him from asking more questions than necessary. He waited as Zim continued.

"When they're perked up," he said, giving the motion. "… it means that I'm happy. Or that I'm listening to something, or searching for a sound."

"When they twitch? I've seen them twitch before. Sometimes a little, and sometimes a lot, but I've always wondered wh-"

"Curiosity!" Zim shouted, purposefully cutting Dib off from his rambling. Dib heard a small growl from Zim and his antennae flatten again. "They also do that when I'm relaxed and they pick up sounds. Irkens have superior hearing compared to a hyuumans, and therefore they twitch a lot due to the constant noises on this dirt ball."

"Anything else?"

"Why don't I just give you all the information I know so you'll stop asking?" Zim asked. Before Dib could answer with an obvious yes, Zim continued. "Antennae are very good indicators of any Irken's present mood. When at almost forty-five degrees in an angle, it means that an Irken is calm and relaxed; this is usually the default position you see them in. If they're raised higher, the Irken is alert. And if they are lower, it means an Irken is wary about something. There are actually three different positions for anger – the lowered, the flattened and the forward. The lowered position shows only slight annoyance, while the antennae being flattened against my skull indicates I am angered, particularly if they are twitching. The vital difference between this position and that of the antennae facing completely forward, is that during the latter the Irken is very angry, and will likely kill whatever is angering them. They also give off pheromones, but humans cannot smell them, of course."

"Why can't I touch them?"

"Irkens are not allowed to touch each other's antennae, so what makes you, Dib-stink think that Zim would let you?"

"It's not like they'd hurt for me touch, would they?"

"…They… they are very sensitive. So yes, it would hurt very much if you pulled one. Some enemies of the Irken Empire have discovered this, and used it as a torturing method before. But we also use them for balance. And In case you are wondering, while a males are pointed or kinked at the end, like mine; a females are most often curled," Zim said. He stood up and walked to the kitchen. Dib followed, sitting at the table. "I left to get away from you."

"So, are there any other sensitive regions? I mean, with humans our stomachs are pretty... sensitive to pain and feeling."

"According to your biology textbooks they are also the housing of most of your organs."

"Right. How many organs do Irkens have? And you didn't answer my last question."

"I am aware," Zim said irritatedly. He shifted his weight. "I am not answering the first quest-"

"You have to!"

"No I do not! Your constant questioning annoys me anyway!"

"Fine! Then just answer the second."

"We have three main organs that are organic. The PAK is considered an inorganic fourth organ. It was organic at one point, I believe," Zim said.

"Really?" Dib shouted. Zim gave him a glare and he shut his mouth.

"YES. Anyway, the three organic organs are our heart, brain, and squeedilyspooch. The PAK is sort of a second brain that helps operate the body, therefore also being our life support. The PAK will grow with the Irken as they get taller. But since height is a form of status in Irken life, most of us are soldiers or have a more civilian status. It's rare that we grow as tall as our Leaders; hence their name the Tallest."

"Cool," Zim heard Dib mumble from behind. He ignored it with nothing more than a smirk and continued.

"Because Irk is all metal, buildings, training centers, and snack bars we have a thick ozone layer that eventually made our skin pale. I'm not sure if the layer is natural or not anymore. The skin of Irkens is green mostly because of the high… what's the human term.. copper content, I believe it is, in our blood. The oxygen we breath makes it so our skin appears green since the veins are close to the surface. Our blood also contains a natural anti-freezing chemical that allows us to live on our planet, which is very cold. Again, thanks to the ozone layer blocking out the Sun most of the time, I imagine."

"You know, you resemble lizards, but you don't feel like one. You feel more like leather."

"..And?"

"Uh… I don't know. Um.. so did Irkens always have PAKs?"

"I believe so. It used to be organic, and even had the legs as well. But we Irkens changed it into a metal machine over time because it was harder to damage that way; and eventually became more efficient that way. But we have yet to discover a way to keep from dying when it is removed. I am not going into detail about THAT," Zim said when he saw Dib's mouth open in question. "There is more on the PAK. It is only compatible with Irken biology. If attached to another creature, it will destroy them in just as long as it takes for the Irken to die. So stealing one is highly idiotic. They also record our status in the Irken society. Or can be upgraded to place an Irken in a different ranking or position. The PAK also houses four mechanical spider-like limbs that can be used as laser cutters and shield generators, an audio and video communicator, an ID and monetary transfer plug, an anti-gravity device, a jetpack, an atmospheric processor, personality, charging cell and an auto-reset. They're very useful. Although, before modern PAK technology an Irken would only live about 150 Earth years, or about 15 years on Irk. With the new PAK, we live much, much longer. Irkens can live for several millennia now. And they give no need for food. But on the occasion that an Irken does decided to ingest something, no waste is created because the PAK uses every food molecule to power itself."

"Why haven't we come up with something like this?" Dib blurted out. "Man, we're dumb!"

Zim smirked again as Dib banged his head on the table. "Earth-pigs are far younger than the Irken race."

"That's hardly an excuse," Dib mumbled.

"Zim is surprised you are not writing this down," Zim said. Dib sat up again.

"Don't need to. I'm recording it," he said, holding up the device. Zim eyed it warily. He felt no immediate danger, as no one believed Dib to begin with, so audio recording could easily be put off as faked.

"..Whatever," he said. Dib raised an eyebrow at the proper use of the slang term.

"What about the other organic organs?" Dib asked, setting the recorder on the table. Zim sat across from him, feeling as if he was being interviewed now instead of just being asked questions by Dib.

".."

"Your eyes? How do they work?" Dib asked.

"First, they come in many other colors than the red and purples you've seen from me, Tak, and the Tallest. They are much more superior to a human, in the way that they allow me to see in the night almost as if it was daylight. And our form of sight and the spectrum in which we see is also superior. The natural Irken eye can see light within the electromagnetic spectrum as well as your own field of sight, which I also learned from your biology textbooks, therefore giving everything we look at a light colored sheen. However, Irkens are unable to focus on one object because we lack what you call pupils, but have a great panoramic view; the relative size of our eyes only increase the field of sight to a total of 180 degrees on the horizontal plane. This allows us to not only have a much greater field of view in battle, but also allows us to see the heat signatures given off by the enemy because of genetic enhancements over time," Zim stated. "We can also use them to breathe, using tissue similar to a human lung. But, as I experienced once while I was here because of the Planet Jackers, I learned they can also pop out if hit hard enough. Luckily there was no permanent damage."

"How come you're so much faster and more flexible than a human? Do your claws and foot talons help with that at all?"

"Our claws and talons do help with speed and climbing. We are agile even on rough surfaces thanks to the talons acting as spikes when we run bare-foot. The claws and talons can move independently, and our claws can secret a deadly toxin that can even erode thin metals," Zim said. He enjoyed the face Dib made and added to the information. "Irkens are immune to the toxin of another Irkens claws, of course."

"WOW! This is amazing!" Dib exclaimed. "Okay, tell me about your real brain! The organic one!"

"Later. Zim must go down to his lab," Zim said. Dib was about to object when Zim turned back to him. "Join me if you really intend to ask me more. But no questions on the way down, I wish my vocal chords to rest."

Dib was silent as he rode down to Zim's labs in the tube. It had been modified recently and easily fit the two of them with plenty of room to spare. When the elevator finally stopped Dib let Zim out first and followed him to a large computer room, all the while taking in the part of his lab he hadn't seen before. "WHOA!"

"Dib," Zim stated. Dib ran in after Zim, the doors automatically closing behind them. "You asked about the other three organs."

"Yeah, I did," Dib stated. "Tell me about your brain."

Zim sat in one of the chairs and Dib copied him. "The Irken brain, like the brains of many other animals and even a human, is located in the skull. It may be comparable to the brain of a hyuuman in complexity and function; but Zim assures it is still superior! It carries out the voluntary and non-voluntary functions like any brain would, but an Irken can live and function without our organic brain because the PAK is essentially our back up since it records everything and can also perform the same functions. Thanks to our nervous system, we can feel pain, cold, and heat like a human. But we can endure the cold better because of our planet."

"What about your.. what did you call it?"

"Squeedilyspooch. It is seen as one organ, but is sectioned off into various compartments that perform the jobs separate organs are responsible for in humans and animals. This means it is responsible as a whole for respiration, digestion, hormone distribution and circulation; those are the basics. We Irkens eat only junk food, so anything with a lot of sugar or anything that is considered unhealthy to a human is need for an Irken body to function. The Irken body maintains such a high metabolism, that every bit of food taken into the body is entirely…" Zim paused for a word, "…assimilated; therefore there is no waste because anything that is left over after digestion is sent to the PAK as power, as I said before. We can eat nearly anything because of the highly acidic fluid in the portion of the Squeedilyspooch that is used to digest food; one of the only exceptions are some of the spices used to season… MEAT."

"Your heart?"

"Serves the same purpose as a humans or animals; its purpose is blood circulation."

"Okay, then. Let me think…" Dib said. Zim held back a groan. Though he found the questions less of a hassle now, he still feared what Dib might ask. "Got it! Okay, so how do you repopulate?"

"Artificially," Zim said automatically. Seeing it wasn't in depth enough he continued. "We're known as Smeets when we come out of the tubes that grow baby Irkens underground Irk, in facilities we call Hatcheries. What we call Control Brains are used to regulate the DNA that's used to clone young Irkens, ensuring that the mixes taken from a number of host Irkens are completely random so each Smeet is different. Only a few seconds after being freed from the cloning tube, and a Smeet will receive its own PAK, which activates them thanks to a shock from a robotic arm. Said young Irkens are able to speak and move properly. Basically this means we didn't need parental care before we started cloning. Around two minutes after a Smeet's activation, they're guided to a room where all Irken knowledge is downloaded into their PAKs by the Control Brains. This doesn't involve military training and tactics. We spend the next ten years of our lives, and the remaining five years of our Smeethood learning these assets in special facilities. Once we reach five years of age, we're considered adults. But this doesn't mean we're done growing, just like how you humans keep growing after you are considered an adult if I'm informed correctly. It takes about ten years for an Irken to reach their full height. But your lack of gravity compared to Irks has caused me to grow more despite my age."

"You're… a clone?" Dib asked. Before Zim could confirm it Dib started u again. "All Irkens are clones? What, does no one have… sex there?"

Dib blushed deeply and Zim just looked at him. "What's… sex?" Zim asked. Dib's mouth fell open.

"Seriously? You're being serious right now?" he asked.

"Zim is always serious."

Dib smacked himself in the face. "Good LORD, Zim! NATURAL reproduction! That's what sex is!"

"Oh. Irkens are forbidden to do anything concerning that. We are only to be loyal to our Tallest. We're to have no loyalty to anyone or anything other than the Tallest and the Irken Empire."

"Why?" Dib asked. "Not to be rude or anything, but c'mon!"

"There are good reasons! It distracts us," Zim said. "But… there is something in the history about it as well. Though, I'm not telling you anything historical about Irk."

"What? Why? You've learned a lot about Earth's history thanks to school; I should know at least this!" Dib argued.

"…Fine," Zim agreed. "But only this. The law was put in action to ensure that loyalty to the Tallest was never put at risk. An Irkens first devotion should be towards the emperor, or emperors. Since the Irken parental instincts were too strong to overcome, the only way to prevent them was to stop them at the beginning and prevent them from taking root at all. Thus, DNA from every Irken is taken in a census and put into the data base to be mixed and make the DNA for Smeets. The Control Brains are the only ones allowed to use the system or even operate it. They ensure that no Smeet is the same DNA wise. And the DNA code of every Irken is recorded so it's never used again. No Irken has had.. any form of.. natural reproduction since the law was passed and the cloning process perfected."

"So do you even have the organs for it anymore?"

"I don't believe so. Since we don't produce waste anymore, the organs for that and reproduction were removed in the generation after that aspect of the PAK was perfected."

"…Are you sure there isn't ANY natural life left on Irk?" Dib asked.

"I have heard rumors of small, uncorrupted plots being rewarded to worthy Irken soldiers that have significantly contributed to the Irken Empire. But they are only seen by those they are given to."

"What's the weather like on Irk?" Dib asked. It was the only question he could come up with to keep an awkward silence from ensuing and he had to admit to himself it was still just as lame as if he was asking what the current weather was like.

"We have very harsh winters due to the distance from our sun and slow orbit. Irken winters are known to be extremely brutal. But the very hot Irken core body temperature and natural anti-freeze allows us to survive. In fact, the mild summers on Irk are known similarly as… what do you call them… cold snaps here on Earth."

"And that's a MILD summer. Wow. Okay, then, how hot IS your core body temperature?"

"What's a humans?"

"Below 100 degrees. If a human hits 100 or over we're considered sick and have a fever."

"An Irkens body temperature is usually over 100 degrees. The average, I believe, is 106."

"Wow! That's really warm, Zim."

"I'm aware, Dib-stink."

"So.. what's a Control Brain do?" Dib asked, completely disregarding any insult Zim gives him now.

"They are very important. On most, if not all Irk planets, there are five. The main three, which were also the originals, are known as the Triumvirate. They're on the Irken planet Judgementia. The five on every planet each have the memories of every Irken since the artificial PAK was introduced. The Triumvirate are the collective consciousness of all the Tallests. They're mostly in charge of encoding PAKs and informational imprint of Smeets. On rare occasions, they oversee court cases and are the judges and jury. I was one of those cas- Why am I telling you this? That wasn't even a question on Irken biology!" Zim raged. Dib leaned back, pushing the chair away from Zim.

"Sorry! Sorry! Not my fault you decided to answer me, sheesh," Dib grumbled. Zim growled, his antennae flat against his head. Dib tapped a finger on the chair and saw the one closest to him twitch. He didn't know why, but the antennae were his favorite feature of the aliens.

"…You're finally done asking?" Zim questioned. Dib spun in the chair.

"Well…. No. I have a lot more to ask, but…"

Zim looked up at him expectantly. Dib swiveled in the chair again. He turned the recorder off and left the chair toward the elevator. "I'll just come back later."

Zim watched him leave through the elevator and turned back around in the seat, his antennae slightly less flattened.


	3. Bullies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dib gets a good look at how strong Irkens can be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could have made this worse, but I want to go for an E rating, so the more gruesome headcanons on Irken fighting will have to be left out for now. Enjoy!

Dib sat in class as the last of the students left. After the awkward end to their conversation the day before, Dib didn't think Zim would appreciate anymore questions concerning Irk. As he left the classroom, he saw Zim slammed into one of the lockers as Chunk and his small rally of bullies sauntered off, laughing. Dib walked over and lifted Zim up.

"What was that?" he asked.

"What?"

"THAT. Chunk bullying you. Why don't you beat them like you used to beat me? You're a good fighter, Zim, you could get them to back off."

"That wouldn't be NORMAL. Someone as thin as me beating someone as grotesquely large as Chunk."

"But you could?" Dib asked. 'I can't seem to stop asking things,' he thought. Zim brushed off his shirt and shrugged.

"I could do damage, of course," he said. Zim started off to the back of the school, wanting to avoid the mass of kids that were inevitably still at the front. Dib took one last take of the locker Zim had been pushed into and saw a small dent made by his pak.

"Least your life support is sturdy," he commented. Zim gave him a grumbled response. "Hey, Zim."

"Yes, Earth monkey?"

"Can you promise me something?" Dib asked. Zim stopped at the doors and turned to give Dib a confused expression.

"What is it?" he asked. Dib shuffled his feet before answering.

"Actually defend yourself next time, okay?" he asked. Zim seemed to think it over. Dib knew it was mostly over whether it would risk his cover being blown or not; and gave Zim his full attention when the Irken seemed to come to a conclusion for his answer.

"No promise said human will end up un-harmed," Zim said. As Dib was about to object Zim continued. "I will give them a warning first."

"Fine, but try to not maim them, alright?" Dib negotiated. Zim gave him a muffled response, but he took it as an agreement.

"Do you have any inquiries today, Earth pig?" Zim asked. The constant insults were enough to tell Dib clearly that Zim was still sore about the day before. But he couldn't reason why he would be.

"Well, yeah. Do Irkens do other things, or are all of you invaders?" Dib asked. Zim's cackle as they made their way closer to the turn off where they'd separate made Dib feel as if he had just asked a question stupid even for him.

"All invaders! You make Zim laugh, Dib-stink! Of course we are all not invaders! For any other job that needs to be filled; technician, mechanic, weapons expert, food service, whatever the job may be an Irken is sent to fulfill it. Of course when their usefulness is completed for the job they are shipped to another so that productivity isn't wasted," Zim answered in an amused voice. Dib paused at the splitting intersection of sidewalk. Zim walked a few paces before turning to him. "Why have you stopped?"

"I go the other way to go home."

"No, you are following Zim home today. I know you have more to ask, and Zim would prefer you ask now instead of later and annoy Zim more than is needed," Zim spat. Dib smiled at the insult hidden invitation and jogged up to Zim, who started walking again when it was clear to him Dib was coming.

~(*)~

Dib yawned as he stretched that morning. He lazily got out of bed, slipping on his glasses. The afternoon before he had asked Zim about more history from his planet, but the stubborn Irken had refused each request and therefore Dib was stuck with asking about the technology in his labs. Which he didn't mind; it was a joy to learn as much as he was. Dib saw his computer sitting on his desk and debated sleepily if he should add his own thoughts to the informational Word document that so far contained only the information Zim had told them. When he had come back the night before, he had stayed up considerably late writing down everything to do with the Irken technology.

Dib yawned and stretched again, finally getting ready and heading down the staircase, laptop in back pack so he could simply type out what Zim told him that day at lunch instead of trying to remember or record it all for later.

"Why are you up so late?" Gaz asked, taking the ear bud out of her ear to hear his answer.

"Was up late last night," Dib said, grabbing some bread as Gaz headed for the door.

When at the school, Gaz broke away to go to the lower grades section and Dib kept walking to the other side of the school, where a door led straight into the hi skool section. As he was about to open the door, he heard shouts from inside. Dib raised an eyebrow and pushed the door open.

"Oh, hell," he mumbled. Chunk was calling Zim out as it seemed, and a small crowd of students were surrounding them. They parted to let Dib through, giving him faces as he pushed his way past.

"Watch it!" one girl spat. Dib ignored her and any others who shouted at him as he reached the edge of the ring and saw Zim glaring down Chunk.

"What's the matter, Green-skin?" Chunk asked. Dib inwardly sighed at the unimaginative insult. He was just as bad as Zim. Speaking of, Dib took a good look at Zim. Something few of the other students seemed to be doing. His glare could actually kill and his stance just screamed to Dib that his antennae were flat against his skull already. "C'mon! I'll even give you the first punch."

As Chunk leaned down to mock Zim more, Dib saw the glint in Zim's eyes and started forward to stop him. But started too late. Zim reached his hand back and grabbed Chunk by the throat. The big jock gasped in surprise; but the students kept shouting for a fight. Zim pulled him in close. Dib could barely hear the threat he uttered, now only a foot or so away.

"Push me anymore, filth monkey, and I will make you regret this day. If you live the next time you cross me," Zim hissed. He released Chunk's throat, almost cutting it through his gloves. As Chunk spluttered to breath correctly again, Zim pushed past the students who now parted to let him through.

Dib stood stock still, watching Zim stomp away. He took a step after him, knowing that he was fuming, and would likely attack the next person to rub him the wrong way. A hand grabbed his ankle and Dib looked down at Chunk. "W-what? Let go, Chunk."

"If I can't beat him up for embarrassing me, then I sure as hell will beat the snot out of you," Chunk said. He dragged Dib to the floor; the students shouting for a fight again. Dib heard the slight shake in their voices, but focused on the fist Chunk was hitting him with.

Zim halted in the hall. His antennae twitched under his wig. He heard Chunks threat and rage built up inside of him. He swiftly turned around and pinpointed Dib though the mass of bodies the students created a wall from. Through a short time opening, he saw Dib and made eye contact before marching back toward Chunk.

"No, Zim!" Dib shouted. It was too late. Zim walked up to Chunk, who was glaring at him while still holding Dib down. Just as Zim was lifting his fist, Chunk released Dib, letting him drop to the floor as he raised his own fist.

Zim's hit first. Chunk was sent flying down the hall, students barely able to get out of the way in time. Dib stared as Chunk landed with a thud on the floor. Out cold. "I-I-I didn't know you were…"

"Get up," Zim ordered. Dib scrambled to his feet as Chunks thugs ran down the hall, pulling Chunk behind them. Zim started walking the opposite direction and Dib wobbled after him.

"You went easy on me!" he shouted to him once they had left earshot of the students, who had seemed to freeze at Zim's punch.

"You never stop asking questions do you?" Zim asked. Though Dib couldn't see, he knew by Zim's face that his antennae were trying to move forward. He took several steps to the side, safely out of arms length. But knew Zim's agility was enough to render him still vulnerable. He prayed they had made up enough of a friendship that he'd simply turn and punch a locker instead of him.

"Zim, you can calm down, I'm fine," Dib assured.

"…I know," Zim said. Dib looked over and saw that Zim's stature was more relaxed and his wig had fallen back into place; meaning his antennae weren't up anymore, but possibly flat against his skull still.

Dib tried to think of a question to calm the alien down as they made their way to their first class. "Um…so did it feel good to finally hand it to Chunk?"

It had been the first question to pop into his head, and Dib thanked his brain as he saw the smirk on Zim's face and see his shoulders relax. "Hmph. Yes, it was."


	4. Switch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried some more questions in this chapter! I'm combining chapters from ff.net, so if you've found this on there first that's why this would have less chapters.

Dib sat waiting patiently at the lunch table as Zim got his plate of food that he never ate. 'Why does he bother?' Dib wondered. He saved the question as a possibility to ask later on. When Zim sat down, he eyed the laptop Dib had set up on the table with a questioning glance.

"Why does the Dib-stink have a computer device at lunch?" Zim asked, starting to mess with the food as usual. Dib took a bite of his apple.

"So I don't have to remember everything said when I ask you questions. This is so I can just type it out on the spot."

"It won't work."

"Why not?"

"You can't type as fast as you talk, I know this already. It is simpler if you record the conversation, and then type it out at a later time," Zim explained, as if Dib should've already known the fact. Dib sighed and shut the laptop, slipping it back into his back pack and taking out the recorder.

"You know a lot of the students haven't stopped looking at you since you punched Chunk?" Dib asked. Zim took a quick sweep of the cafeteria and saw nearly half the room's heads turn sharply around to try and not get caught.

"I am aware. I can hear them as well," Zim confessed.

"Really? I can't hear what they're saying. Just the normal talking in this loud place," Dib said. Zim looked up at him as if he was an idiot. "Right. Your hearing. What are they saying?"

"Hold on. … 'He could've killed him', 'How do you know he didn't', 'He was weird before, but now he's even scarier'. Hmm, I rather like that comment. I put fear into them now."

"That's not necessarily a good thing, Zim."

".. They are also acknowledging that we 'are friends now since you are sitting with me and we aren't trying to beat each other to a bloody pulp'," Zim recited.

"Who said that?" Dib asked, setting up the specifics for his recorder.

"Farthest table to the right," Zim said. Dib looked from the corner of his eye. Zim clarified for him. "The cheerleaders, I believe. One just switched the conversation to their practice."

"You can hear them all the way over there?!" Dib asked. Zim nodded nonchalantly as if it was nothing special. Dib sighed, it may have not been anything special to the Irken, but it was definitely something special to him.

"So, can I ask more questions, or are you sick of it yet?" he asked, hoping it wouldn't end up the latter.

"Ask away, human, they are starting to entertain me now," Zim admitted. He pushed away the food and rested his head in his palms. Dib smiled and put the recorder in the side of his jack, positioned so that it would pick up the conversation, but not be too noticeable.

"Great! Well, I did have other questions, but for now I'm more interested in how you had always put up with the bullies before I asked you fight back."

"Zim's patience is slim, but the importance of keeping my identity a secret helped the tolerance. Although Zim admits he has planned numerous ways of killing and disposing of the cretins," Zim said. Dib pursed his lips and looked to the side for a moment.

"Oh. Well, I'm sure your way of dealing with them is not only more possible than my ways, but a lot deadlier," Dib stated. Zim smirked, giving Dib his answer without having to say a word. "Uh huh."

"Zim suggests you begin to ask another question before the thought of them angers him again," Zim said. Dib straightened his back.

"Okay, then. Those teeth of yours. If Irkens don't eat because of your PAKS, then why do you still have those… zipper teeth? I assume they're sharp?"

"Yes, they are quite sharp," Zim said proudly. "Irkens used to be carnivorous, before our PAKs enabled us to survive without food. We have yet to evolve without growing the teeth; of course they still hold a purpose. They are very useful in battle."

"Uh-huh. Well what about your tongue? I noticed it's serpentine, but also segmented."

"Zim does not care for why it is segmented, so I won't bother looking that bit of information up," he said. Dib's shoulders sagged. "Although, as you said before we Irkens apparently resemble reptiles to your eyes. I suppose the tongue is another factor of those genes. If Irkens did not possess this unique tongue, we could not speak our language effectively."

"What does Irken sound like, anyway?" Dib asked. "I never bothered to listen that much when you, I assume, swore at me."

"Heheh, Dib-stink is smart," Zim said. Before Dib could object to the insult and purposeful bad grammar Zim continued by speaking what Dib could only assume was several sentences in Irken. Dib sat dumbfounded at the nonsense that was so foreign to his ears. All he was clearly able to pick up were some sounds, and that most of them seemed similar to S's and T's and perhaps a C stuck in there somewhere. …And their names.

"What?" he asked, suspecting it had been a long insult.

"I simply stated that 'Irken is hard to learn for other species, and that you, Dib-stink would not be able to speak it if you tried. Even if you happened to get me to try and teach it to you, Zim would not very much like it for I do not feel like hearing my native tongue SLAUGHTERED by your incompetence'. That is what I said."

"I knew it was some form of an insult when I heard my name," Dib complained. "Well, I'll just have to prove you wrong one day."

Zim scoffed at the notion. "Zim would actually enjoy the numerous failures you are bound to endure in that little endeavor of yours."

Dib glared at him for a moment before deciding to continue on to the next question he had. "Whatever, you'll teach me eventually. So, do Irkens at least know what a kiss is?"

"That term is not in our vocabulary, we perhaps call it something else. Describe it," Zim demanded. Dib sighed.

"Well.. it's a show of affection-" the bell to end lunch cut Dib off and he looked as everyone started to leave. "I'll tell you later, want to come to my house after school this time? Gaz has a club meeting after school for that video game she's obsessed with, so we'd at least get an hour or two of peace."

"Gir would annoy us most of the time, so yes," Zim said, getting up to leave.

~(*)~

"Finally here," Dib stated, letting his bag drop by the door and making his way to his room. "I think this is the first time you've been here and NOT snuck in."

"You are correct," Zim said. When they had reached Dib's room Zim stood by the bed as Dib fell onto it.

"I still ache from Chunk's beating," he mumbled. Zim looked to the side, waiting. "Oh, right. Well, anyway, a kiss is a show of affection humans use to… well.. show affection. To show we like the other."

"What is the point of that, can you not just say your feelings?" Zim asked, confused.

"It's more complicated than that," Dib stated. "Saying it isn't enough for us. Humans like to physically show that we like one another. That's another reason we have.. natural reproduction, I guess."

"What does this… kiss, look like?" Zim asked. Dib gave him a look.

"I'm not showing you!"

"It is a simple enough question, Dib-stink. Zim does not show affection, he merely does not know what this.. kiss is."

"It's basically two people putting their lips together. It can be for a moment, or for a while. Lip moving is optional if you want to show a lot more affection than usual. I explained it to you, but there is no way I'm actually gonna show you."

"Zim understands enough, Dib-stink. Irkens do not do this action. There is no need since we are forbidden to show any affection toward one another."

"Then why did I have to explain it to you?!"

"Zim saw that it made the Dib-stink uncomfortable," Zim said, smirking.

"You're an ass," Dib whispered.

"Whispering does no good, Earth-monkey," Zim stated, taking his wig off and shutting the door. Dib watched him take the contacts out as well and saw mechanical arms take them and store the disguise in his PAK. He sat at the end of Dib's bed, shoving his legs behind him.

"Coulda just asked me to move them," Dib said, crossing his legs. "So now that you've had your fun HUMILIATING me, how about this: I ask some dumb questions that annoy you?"

"No," Zim said off the bat. Dib glared at him.

"Gee, thanks," he grumbled. "Then I'll just ask what comes to mind. What's your favorite color?"

"…Zim assumes you mean the pigments things are. Zim's favorite would have to be what you call blue."

"That's my favorite, too," Dib commented. He looked to the ceiling, seeing the glow in the dark stars and ships he had stuck up there as a kid and hoped Zim didn't look up himself. "Uh… Why do you assume you were sent here as a banishment?"

"Next."

"Next? You can't say next, Zim."

"You never made that part of the rules."

"What rules?!"

"Exactly."

Dib grumbled angrily to himself as he tried to think of another question that he could as without anything back lashing on him. "Oh. When is an Invader's term of duty up?"

"Up?" Zim asked.

"Over," Dib specified. "When is an Irken soldiers term of duty over?"

"Usually after they've been sent out for a certain amount of invasions, or when they die. Usually an Irken will serve until told to retire, we are very loyal to our leaders."

"Are you still loyal to them after what they did?" Dib asked automatically. He saw Zim's shoulders stiffen and pondered quickly whether he'd be able to grab the pillow beneath his head fast enough before Zim could attack him. As he was about to grab it, Zim seemed to relax.

"I am not the first Irken invader to be banished, Dib-stink. I resent that they would do such a thing to such an obviously BRILLIANT invader, but I digress. I am still loyal to them, whether or not I take their orders as eagerly; if at all. They have not contacted Zim in some time, and I have not made any effort to contact them either unless for more supplies."

"If they didn't want you, why are they still sending supplies?"

"They know it is prob'ly all that is keeping me from calling them personally."

Dib noticed Zim's tone of voice was kept even. He looked back at his ceiling for a moment. "Um…."

"Zim wishes to ask his own questions now," Zim stated. Dib looked at him confused for a moment.

"Uh.. okay, I guess."

"What was this filth planet like before you humans made these disgusting cities? Irken cities are much cleaner," Zim added. Dib ignored the double insult.

"Mostly like the parks. Lots of trees, grass, hills, and open land. There were a lot more animals and a lot less pollution," Dib explained. "Of course, there are a lot of people fighting to keep it clean as it is, and clean it up more."

"I see. What about your glasses. What purpose do they serve? All Zim has seen with a human wearing them is a reason to bully," Zim said, taking the glasses off Dib's face. "Or if the human is old and near death. Does it keep you humans alive somehow?"

"Hey, I need those!" Dib said, reaching to take them back. Zim easily held him back with one arm as he examined them. "And no, that's just stupid."

"Then what is their use? No Irken needs these on their face unless it is to protect from debris or sparks when working. Or aiming," Zim said.

"To see! Not all humans have perfect vision, so glasses help with that," Dib explained, snatching them back and placing them back on this face. "Sometimes the eyes get worse and the prescription changes to a higher number to help the person see as if they didn't need glasses."

"That seems important enough," Zim reasoned. "But some other human inventions are very primitive and Zim sees no need for them."

"Like what?" Dib asked.

"Those INFERNAL contraptions you humans call "lawn mowers", GUH! They irritate and harm Zim's superior hearing!" Zim complained.

"Hahaha! They're for cutting down the grass. People believe that a well kept lawn is better looking and therefore we use a lawn mower to keep the grass at an even level. They're just load because they're engines are like a modern car's."

"Why care about the grass?! It's not needed. Irkens have no grass on any of our conquered planets, it is a nuisance."

"No it's not. It helps produce oxygen. Which humans happen to need to survive. And it feels nice to walk in barefoot. Also it's softer to fall on than concrete or meta," Dib explained.

"I only see the oxygen as any reason for its existence," Zim stated. "What of this paper you use so often?"

"Writing, drawing, projects, business, packaging. It's got a lot of uses, but people are going way more digital nowadays. Mostly because it's cooler and fun, but a lot of people do it because it's cutting down less trees; which are what we get it from."

"Far better," Zim commented. "And the bullies. You tolerate them, but never fight back. Why?"

"I don't see any need to fight more than necessary and just cause a bigger scene. I'm only stuck there for another year or two, so I'll be rid of them eventually."

"You're a fool."

"Excuse me?"

"You have enough muscle mass to at least cause a bruise if you tried. Your sister has less trouble, than you because she intimidates them. Something you should've tried a long time ago. At least Zim has a valid reason for tolerating them. I cannot risk any human other you and Gaz finding out I am not human. I cannot guarantee that I will not kill one of them if I do not control my temper."

"Change the subject or I'll ask another embarrassing question," Dib threatened. Zim smirked and pulled his legs up onto the bed, turning to face his entire body toward Dib.

"Since you insist so rudely… I'll just ask about your own biology since you asked so much about my own."


	5. Curiosity of an Alien

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was, as you can imagine, much easier to do research on aha.

"..WHAT? No."

"Yes."

"NO."

"Zim promises not to ask anything concerning what he believes relates to human reproduction."

"…Fine."

"Good. Now, why do humans have so many organs? Irkens don't have nearly as many and function just fine."

"Irkens have the PAK. Each organ performs its own function. The stomach, intestines, and throat help us eat. The throat also leads to the lungs, which we breath with. The heart is a given, and so is the brain. Other organs like the liver and kidneys keep the body from being too toxic, but only to a limit. You should know what the bladder does."

"I see. You're very complicated, no wonder you're always being abducted."

"Thanks," Dib answered sarcastically, setting his glasses on his bedside table.

"Why do you have five fingers? How can you manage that many at once, it is very strange."

"To you it's as strange as it is for me to think about having just three fingers. Some people have lost a digit, that's another word for a finger or toe, so they understand better than I do. It's just a subconscious thing."

"You have the same number of toes as well, what purpose does that serve? They are not nearly as helpful in climbing as your hands appear to be."

"We got that from our relatives: monkeys. C'mon, Zim, that's basic knowledge even you should've known."

"Zim was merely confirming."

"I bet."

"..Next question. Zim has noticed your hearing and eyesight is also inferior to an Irken, as is obvious. Why have you not invented something to better that?"

"Well, the military has that technology. They use it for spying and missions, so the public isn't allowed access."

"That seems very selfish."

"Yeah, it is."

"Why are most of your teeth flat like a plant-eater's and not sharp?"

"That didn't sound insulting at all. We're omnivores; meaning we eat plants and meat equally. Well, you know we ate meat. Anyway, we have fang teeth."

"Yes, yes, Zim knew this."

"Well, why do Irkens have teeth that are sharp? You don't eat meat, you eat what's basically considered junk food."

"Evolution, Dib-stink. We modify the DNA to keep our teeth from becoming dull."

"Why do they connect like a zipper?"

"What?" Zim asked, almost sounding offended.

"No offense intended. I just noticed they sorta connected like that," Dib explained, grabbing a zip up sweater and demonstrating.

"Ah. Well, to be truthful, Zim never bothered to learn that answer. I see no need in it."

"That's lame."

"My turn," Zim said bluntly. "Why do you reproduce naturally when cloning is clearly superior and faster?"

"You said no questions like that!"

"Zim stated he would not ask any concerning the reproductive organs. This is pertaining to the process in general."

"Ugh… fine. We haven't gotten the hang of cloning yet. And there's a lot of controversy on the matter of cloning a person."

"Zim does not understand."

"Rrrr… it has to do with the clone turning out to be a real person, whether or not they'd have a soul, whether or not they'd have rights, stuff like that. I don't like getting involved with that kind of stuff anyway, so I just keep out of it altogether."

"It sounds frustrating enough," Zim agreed. He had relaxed enough that he leaned down on the bed. The sound of the house door opening and slamming shut introduced Gaz entering. As she came up the stairs, Zim calmly went behind Dib's door as she pushed it open and saw him on the bed.

"You're still on the bed? Did you fall asleep or something?" she asked.

"No."

"..Whatever. As long as I can finally watch what I want to," Gaz said, shutting the door behind her. After she had gone back down the stairs, Zim sat on the bed again.

"Why did you hide?" Dib asked with a chuckle. Zim glared at him.

"I did not wish to deal with her," he explained.

"Okay, then. Go on to whatever else you wanted to ask," Dib said. Zim pondered it for a moment.

"Hmm… try and explain why there are so many religions on this planet. Zim does not understand the need for so many."

"Oh boy…"


	6. Religion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll notice these are short chapters, well they cover separate topics so I'm separating them out, especially when they pass the cap of 1,000 I initially give myself to write per chapter.

"What is wrong with the question?" Zim asked.

"Religion can be a… uh… hard thing to discuss usually. They sort of just… id don't know sprung up. Depending on what region you were in depended on the religion you followed at first. Christianity is the most common as of now. But there are A LOT more. You'd have to read several books on them all to understand each one, and I don't know enough to try and explain them all."

"Why is it so important to you humans?"

"It just is. I'm not debating this with you, Zim."

"Why?"

"Why? Haven't you ever seen even ONE thing on the news about a religious dispute? Or even heard about any? They get nasty. A lot of wars in human history were started over religion. We've gotten better, but we're still pretty dull-minded about just respecting that someone is from a different religion if you ask me."

"Zim is."

"Then I just answered another question."

"…Zim will research on his own if he is still curious then."

"Do Irkens have a religion?" Dib asked suddenly. Zim gave him an odd look.

"Of course. What doesn't?"

Dib raised his hand. Zim gave him a confused look. "We call not believing in, or having a religion, atheism."

"Ah. Well, to most other alien societies that can be argued as a form of belief and therefore religion. But on to your question… Irkens do have a… what is the Earth term… "God"?"

"That's the one."

"Yes, well, we do indeed have our own "god" that we worship. We do not focus on it publically, is all."

"Is that why I've never seen you even make a motion to a higher being than your Tallest? You don't publicize it?"

"Exactly. It can be insulting to flaunt your belief into another's face. It caused unnecessary wars, so it was made law that we shouldn't flaunt it, but instead keep it to our own Irkens and ourselves. It has worked wonderfully, but resulted in most races believing we are "atheist" as you put it."

"I can see why. If you never even mention it, how is someone supposed to think that you do have a god?"

"I just figure it does not matter to them. It does not affect their lives in the least."

"True. Want to elaborate on it for me?"

"No."

"Why not?" Dib asked sadly.

"That would be flaunting it. It is against my laws to flaunt it around."

"But I actually want to know," Dib stated flatly, feeling slightly offended at this point. Zim raised an antennae skeptically.

"…Very well. Zim supposes he can make an exception this once. We worship a single god that can detach into several others at will and still retain its original form."

"…WHAT?"

"…It can… uh…" Zim started speaking with his hands, trying to find the right human words to describe the process. Dib smiled at the comical motions. "…Zim is lost on words."

"Keep trying, I got time," Dib said coolly. Zim gave him a short glare.

"It can… I suppose the closest to it would be it has "children" that it controls. Some are for elemental purposes before Irk was all metal such as the ocean's behavior, the weather, the sun's heat, and the seasons. Others explained such things as "envy", "love", and "greed"… a similar example would be Hinduism.. Zim believes that is the one with the thousands of gods."

"Heck if I know, I could never tell the two apart."

"Zim does not know what you mean by that. Nevertheless, it-"

"Why do you keep calling him, an "it"?"

"…Because there is no set gender."

"..Oh."

"That should have been obvious enough for you, Dib-stink," Zim stated. Before Dib could retort, Zim went on. "We have holidays surrounding it, and a set day for worship. Of course, not everyone will remember to worship that day if they are busy, so there is a second accepted day. If you miss both then you must worship for three days in a row without interference."

"That's.. really specific."

"It is not to me."

"You're used to it," Dib stated flatly. "What about the possibility that they can't worship for a long time; like if they were in the hospital or something?"

"Then they are pardoned for the missed days of worship," Zim stated matter-of-factly. "I would assume that was clear enough."

"Then let me just changed subject a little. I don't understand how it can become multiple gods and still be one," Dib stated.

"Zim told you, it is similar to it having children in a way."

"Dib! Get off the computer with your weirdo eyeball friends or turn it down, I can't hear the damn TV!" Gaz shouted. Right after the volume went up. Zim set a hand on his antennae in irritation to block out the heightened noise.

"Sorry about her," Dib apologized.

"Why do you apologize for her? She is capable of doing the act herself."

"I just feel like I have to."

"Well stop, it is aggravating and shows weakness," Zim stated stubbornly. He set his wig back on his head. "..Better."

"…Okay, so you have a religion… how about belief in myths?"

"Irkens do not believe in myths-"

"What? You believed everyone was a monster on Halloween last year! Some of those costumes weren't even good."

"Silence!" Zim shouted.

"Shut up, she'll hear you, you dumba–"

"DIB!"

"Sorry!"

"Do not apologize to her, either."

"Zim, it's hard to break old habits."

"…True.." Zim seemed to consider something and then stood, re-disguising himself. "I have to go."

"What? Why?"

"The computer is requesting I return, Gir is giving him a hard time, and I have the waffles," Zim stated, exiting through the window above Dib's bed. Dib looked out the glass after Zim and noticed that it had gotten very dark.

"In that case, just come back tomorrow," Dib shouted after him. "…But leave Gir behind!"


	7. Mannerisms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where you may see a shift in writing quality, this is the chapter that I finally picked the fic back up after 5 years.

Dib laid in bed the next morning tired as all hell. He had once again stayed up most of the night writing down what he and Zim had been talking about. He hadn't gone to bed until early that morning. He thanked his luck that it was Saturday. He checked the time on the microwave as he passed to see that it was already nearly 2 in the afternoon. He made himself up some cereal and slumped into his usual seat at the table.

"Finally awake?" Gaz asked, dumping a dirty dish in the sink.

"Yeah. Did I miss anything from Dad?"

"Nope."

Gaz left, leaving Dib alone again. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, vaguely remembering that he had invited Zim back today if he wanted to come. Gaz walked back in and punched Dib on the arm as she passed. Dib rubbed it out of reflex. Gaz had lightened up on him over the years, but the habit hadn't broken.

"I am, however, going out with friends. I'll be gone 'til late so you're on your own," she said, grabbing a coat from the closet. Dib shrugged.

"Alright, well, have fun," Dib said, nearly finishing his cereal. Gaz gave him a second punch on her next passing – her own unspoken 'good-bye' for Dib.

"I always do," Gaz said, leaving. Just as she exited out the door she shouted back at him. "Oh, and Zim's been sitting out back for the past two hours."

"What?!" Dib shouted. He rushed out back to where Zim was sitting in the tree shading the back porch. He had his back to the trunk, his legs dangling down as he slept against the tree. "Zim?"

Dib could see his wig move slightly from his antennae twitching at the sound of his voice. Zim opened his eyes and looked down at him. "Ah, Dib-stink you are awake."

"Were you sleeping?"

"Hm? No. Irkens do not require rest. Usually."

"Usually?"

"Come up," Zim said, lowing his mechanical arm as he had done before. It lifted Dib up effortlessly. He sat down across from him. "I'd rather you be here rather than shouting your questions at me now."

"Thanks," Dib said. "So, what do you mean by usually?"

"Our PAKs allow us to sleep very little. If an Irken does sleep it isn't for many, many months."

"For how long?" Dib asked. He silently wished he could go back to bed to sleep more but pushed the desire out of his mind.

"It depends how long we have."

Dib blinked. Zim stared at him, as if the answer was sufficient. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"If we have a few minutes, then a few minutes. If, however, the PAK does not sense danger for an extended period of time then we can possibly have a full rest. How are you not comprehending this?" Zim asks. Dib groans.

"Zim, you can't answer as if I should know this, I don't have access to that information like you do with your PAK. Humans have to actually look up information we don't know," Dib explains.

"How long does that take?" Zim asks.

"Depends on how much we need to look up and how accessible it is. How long does it take PAKs to comb through all recorded Irken knowledge?"

"A matter of seconds to moments," Zim answers plainly.

"And you can do that any time you want?"

"Yes."

"How long has an Irken slept since you stopped needing to?"

"You are quite talkative today."

"You stopped answering one question with a full explanation," Dib said, smirking at him. Zim glared at him, kicking one of his legs. Dib shouted as he regained his balance.

"Hey!"

"Touché," Zim said, ignoring Dib. "The longest an Irken has been known to sleep is approximately ten Earth years."

"What?! That's a coma, not a nap!"

"Don't shout when you are so close to the mighty Zim!" Zim shouts back, covering his wig.

"Sorry."

"Ugh. They were trapped on a planet with no life. They essentially went into hibernation. I, however, have only slept for up to several Earth months."

"That's still a long time. Then why were you acting like you were asleep?"

"I was relaxing, Dib-stink. Even Invaders are entitled to a little relaxation every once in a while. We have similar mannerisms to humans. As disgustingly simple as your species is," Zim said. Dib rolled his eyes at him. He readjusted himself, sitting on the branch easier.

"Like?" Dib asked, swinging his feet.

"We dislike being proven wrong, we do not enjoy when another is rude to us, and we get bored. Many of what you consider to be human mannerisms are shared by other species of higher intelligence. Most species, as I've noted while I have been here," Zim states. He looks out over the fence to the neighbor's dog, which was watching them intently. "For instance, that creature appears paranoid."

Dib lightly kicked his legs. "I think it knows you're an alien under that get-up," he teased. Zim scoffed at him.

"Nothing can see through my BRILLIANT disguise, Dib-stink" he says confidently.

"I did," Dib said. Zim shot his eyes open in a glare to him. Dib laughed, rocking on the branch. Zim took a leg up and kicked him off. "Augh!"

Dib landed hard on the ground, the breath knocked out of him. Zim watched him gasp and then start up his laughing again. He growled at him, leaping down. Dib watches him, seeing the look of confused anger and laughing harder. Zim kicks him lightly in the leg, only causing Dib to start wheezing.

"You were supposed to stop laughing," he spits, giving a second kick.

"Hahaha! I c-can't- haha! Your face!" Dib gasps.

"What about Zim's face?!" Zim asks angrily, kneeling next to him. "Are you ill?"

"Wha- hahaha! No! I'm amused!" Dib manages to say. Zim grumbles, sitting down. Dib had to force himself to calm down and stop laughing. It took a minute, but he had managed it. Dib sat up, rubbing tears from his eyes, latent chuckles still finding their way out.

"Are you done, finally?" Zim asks.

"Yes. Aheh. That kick was pretty human, by the way."

"Do not compare an Irken to your filthy Earth-pig species!" Zim demands. Dib ignored the demand, standing up. He held his hand out. Zim looked at it a moment and stood himself. "Zim also does not need what you call 'hand-outs'."

"It's not a hand-out, for one," Dib says. He opens the back door, ushering Zim inside. "Secondly, it's what a lot of people do. It's lending a hand."

"It's a sign you think I'm weak, yes?" Zim asks. Dib snorts.  
"Hardly. It's just polite."

"…Polite."

"Yes. Is that a word on Irk? Or a concept?" Dib asks, rummaging through the cabinets.

"Zim must think a moment," he says. He pauses and then shakes his head. "We do not have a verbal equivalent. Is it a show of solidarity?"

"No- well…" Dib thought about it for a moment. "Actually, sometimes it is. But, overall being polite just means you're being nice to someone. Like so."

Dib pulled out a bag of small chocolates and dropped it on the table. The candy poured out. Zim stared at it a moment. He looked at Dib then back at the table. Dib began to wonder if he'd begin to notice the connection. When Zim sat down and flicked one of the pieces Dib sighed and sat down beside him.

"Okay, wow. That connection should have been easy to make," Dib says.

"What connection? You spoke of a human mannerism and then threw candy down," Zim summarizes.

"Zim, it's candy. Junk food. I'm giving it to you? As a sign of kindness? Being nice?"

"Oh," Zim mused. He looked at it again. "Why?"

"Because- what? We're friends now, aren't we?" Dib asks. Zim huffs.

"I suppose so," he says. "But why the… candy?"

"Yes, candy."

"Why?"

"That's something friends do. Don't Irkens know what that is?" Dib asks. He grabs a piece and unwraps it. He throws it in his mouth. "Eat one. It's got high sugar content."

Zim eyed them and took one. He spoke as he unwrapped it. "We don't. I told you we have no loyalty other than to our Tallest."

"What, that includes friendships? That's pretty lonely, Zim."

"It does not bother Zim," Zim states, plucking the chocolate into his mouth. Dib watched eagerly for the reaction. He was pleased when Zim's eyes lit up and he dove for another piece. "This tastes normal!"

"Ahahaha! Normal for you, maybe, it's sweet for us," Dib explains. "I thought maybe you'd just eat Earth junk food at lunch instead of leaving food to waste. Well, what we generously call that slob of… stuff, anyway. I've seen kids eat nothing but crap at lunch before, so it's not weird."

"Every day?" Zim asks. "I could have been having my own supplies at lunch this whole time?!"

Dib watched Zim unwrap and pop three in his mouth at once. He poured more of the bag out on the counter. "Yes. Maybe not every day, but you could have. You seriously didn't think of that before?"

"Zim was concerned with appearing normal," he explains. "It could have raised suspicion."

"Right," Dib said. He leaned back in his seat, reaching to the counter for the remote and flipping on the TV. He watched the show that Gaz had left on and listened to Zim eat most of the bag before a thought hit him. "Hey, wait a second."

"What? You said Zim could eat them," Zim says, hording some of the leftover candy.

"No, I was thinking about earlier. You said friends aren't a thing on Irk, then what's Gir? I know he's your robot, but you don't consider him a friend?" Dib asks.

Zim looks at him as if he'd lost his mind. Dib ignored the possibility that exact thought had crossed the Irken's mind and waited for his answer. Zim swallowed the candy in his mouth and sat up straight. "That defect? Zim would never lower his standards to THAT, Dib-stink. Gir was meant to be a unit to assist in my invasion. Nothing more."

"Why keep him if he's defective?" Dib asks.

"Ah. Gir tried to kill me when I attempted to fix him. He is more defective as a functioning unit than as he is now. They are not meant to kill or harm their Masters. He can still perform basic functions most of the time. The Tallest refuse to send me a proper unit, so Zim must use his brilliance to work with what was given," Zim explains. He saw the gears in Dib's mind turning and shook his head preemptively. "Zim does not wish to recount that event."

"Ugh, fine. I guess having your… well, pet robot, I guess… kill you must have been less than favorable."

"That would be an understatement, Dib-stink."

Dib chuckled, flipping channels. He was enjoying this.


	8. Will

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to explore the topic that Irkens don't choose their own career paths. It was always something I thought humans would think was strange, or synopsis with the concept from a particular Ayn Rand novel, where one does not choose their own career or path. We read one of her novels in high school English at my school, and I loved it.

Dib checked the time. It was almost dinner. He hummed to himself. Zim and he had migrated to his room to play video games hours ago and he'd completely missed lunch. He wasn't surprised when Zim excelled at the games. It wasn't the first time he'd seen is prowess with similar controls. Dib smugly smirked as he won again.

"Augh! How do you play this infernal game?!" Zim shouted, throwing down the controller. It bounced off one pillow onto another. Dib looked down at the floor. He'd laid out the pillows after the first game and loss of one controller.

"I need to make dinner anyway, so how about a break?" he suggests. Zim huffed but leapt from the bed. Dib paused the screen and kicked pillows on his way out. "We have more candy bars you can have while I have dinner."

"Zim ate too many, he can wait," Zim says. Dib shrugged as he moved by him.

"Whatever. Set up the TV if you get bored," he says, flipping on the kitchen's lights.

Zim stood in the doorway and watched him as he took out a pot and a bag of something he didn't recognize. Zim moved to the table to get a closer view. Dib filled the pot with water and set it on the piece of counter with black circles. He turned one knob and moved to and through a doorway across the room. He came back out with a jar full of something red, setting it on the counter. He dug through the cabinets a second time and took out a flattened pot, pouring the jar's contents inside and turning a second knob. When he covered the flatter pot with a strange cover he turned to Zim.

"What?" he asked.

"What are you doing?" Zim asked.

"Um. Cooking."

"Ah," Zim said, nodding. He looked all the objects again. "What is that?"

"I- you don't know what cooking is?" Dib asked incredulously. Zim nodded and Dib blinked at him. "Um. It's how we prepare food. Well, no, I guess it'd make sense you didn't know, you eat everything prepared for you."

"Zim recalls oil vats from his short stint in a similar career," Zim says. He pauses and hisses at the memory. Dib waited for him to continue. "We did not prepare so thoroughly."

"Most humans do," Dib explains. "It's just something we do. It makes the food taste better."

Zim hummed in response. He watched Dib go back to preparing his dinner when the water began to boil. Zim watched him go through the motions the entire time, observing intently. When Dib started to scoop it onto a plate he stood up and looked inside at the pasta Dib had made.

"Dib-stink, what is this called?"

"Pasta. Usually people use the sauce with spaghetti or a mix of pasta and meat. My mom used to put macaroni noodles in it with sausage. I just use it with whatever pasta is in the cabinet and spice it up," Dib said, sitting at the table, Zim following him. Zim stared at the food as he ate. Dib eyed him and sighed. "Yes?"

"How does it taste?" Zim asked. Dib offered the fork but Zim leaned away.

"Zim cannot eat your inferior Earth food."

"Fine, live your life without tasting greatness," Dib teased. Zim seemed to consider something for a moment and then punched Dib in the arm. "Ow!"

"Zim refuses your food because Zim cannot eat it," he explains. Dib rolls his eyes. He was half way through the plate when a thought struck him.

"Zim?"

"Hm?"

"You mentioned earlier that Irkens are assigned jobs," Dib says.

"Yes, that is what Zim said. Does Dib-stink need a refresher?"

"No, but is that for every single Irken? Your leaders didn't have a choice, either?" Dib asks. Zim hums, setting his legs up on the table. Dib didn't push them off but lightly kicked Zim's chair. He pretended not to notice.

"None of us had a choice in that," Zim says plainly. Dib snorts, almost choking on a forkful. He glanced over to see Zim smirking.

"Wait, was that a joke?! You just made a joke!"

"Yes, and it was a brilliant one," Zim boasts. "I must admit, of one mannerism that humans have, 'joking' is a rather fun one."

"I'm guessing Irkens don't' joke much, either?"

"Not usually. We are too busy with our tasks," Zim explains. He leans the chair back on its hind legs. "But on a serious matter – no, we do not choose our positions. The Control Brains handle that."

"Doesn't seem very fair," Dib says, finishing the plate. "What if you don't like the job you're given?"

Dib stood up, setting the dish in the sink and moving over to pack up the rest of the pasta. Zim furrowed his brow, mulling over the described situation. Dib was setting the lid on the container when he realized Zim hadn't answered yet.

"Zim?"

"You do it anyway," Zim says finally, standing from the table. He stretches, his claws nearly poking through their gloves. Dib looks away, stowing the food in the fridge. He heard the pot clink and looked up to see Zim depositing it in the sink. Zim started towards the stairs before Dib could mention the help and he followed.

Zim was beating him easily up the stairs by the time Dib had reached the bottom step. "That's not fair," he called up.

"Why?" Zim asked.

"Because- uh, because… because it's not. Humans have the option of choosing their own careers," Dib says. Zim sat back on his bed, laying himself out as if on a hammock.

"That lacks productivity," Zim says. "You are put where you are needed."

"No, it's not. Okay, that's not true, it sometimes is. But we have the option to do something that make us happy. That's what free will is for, you decide what you want to do or be. You weren't always an invader, you said so downstairs, you used to be in food service. But you wanted to be an Invader and that's what you did, wasn't it?" Dib asked. Zim cracked an eye open and stared at him. "Didn't they assign you to be an Invader because you wanted to be one?"

"They never reassigned Zim," he says. Dib was silent, staring at him.

"But. You just said-"

"Zim admits, he found flaws in The Control Brain's logic and disagreed in his assignment. I , as humans put it, 'ditched' my old assignment to be given one of an Invader," Zim explained, going so far as to use the quote gesture he'd seen humans do before.

"You used your free will!" Dib exclaimed. Zim sat up, throwing a pillow at him.

"Zim did no such thing!"

"Liar!" Dib yelled, a goofy smile on his face. "You did a human thing before you even came here."

"Zim merely corrected a faulty assignment, that is all!" he shouts. Dib threw the pillow back, hitting Zim on the head. Zim immediately removed it, smacking Dib in the chest.

"Oof! Ahaha, call it what you want, but you used your own free will to get a better job," Dib says.

"That would be defying the Tallest and the Control Brains, Zim did no such thing!" he persists.

Dib saw him grab for a pillow on the ground and took his own from the head of his bed. He blocked Zim's throw, launching both pillows in his hands at Zim. They hit their mark and Dib grabbed the third pillow as a shield.

Zim tore the pillows away, aiming to kick Dib in the leg. Dib set the pillow between them. It softened the blow, but Zim kicked hard. "Ow! Hey, that's against pillow-fight rules."

"That is what Dib-stink gets for suggesting Zim was not loyal. Zim has won," Zim says, crossing his arms triumphantly. Dib snorted, pushing Zim's leg back to him.

"This round. You drama queen."

"Zim is no queen, but he is as brilliant as one," Zim says. Dib chuckles, picking up his controller to start the game again.

"You know," he says, seeing Zim grab his own controller. "Free will isn't an insult. It's a good thing."

"Hmph. Zim is unsure of that in Irken society. Defying any order is taboo and punished," he says. Dib grimaced.

"Well… your current orders are—arguably—just to stay around Earth right now, right?"

"Zim supposes so."

Dib smiled. "Then welcome to living on Earth."


	9. Education and Snacks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is based off a suggestion from an ff.net reader (Zela Night) who suggested I cover what Irken education would have been like. I had fun writing this chapter and it got twice as long as my usual word count cap, so enjoy!

Dib entered the skool Monday after an entire weekend of games less than rested. He learned quickly Saturday that Irkens really didn't need sleep on a regular basis. He had honestly thought that had been an exaggeration. Then he'd woken up at nearly 2 pm Sunday after passing out at 4 am and seen Zim organizing his entire house. The Irken had, understandably, gotten bored.

He'd woken up to a slamming door—he'd later discover was Gaz leaving—and found his entire room organized to the perfection of a 5-star lab. He had then moved to the stairs to see Zim alphabetizing the movie collection. He made his way down, noting how much of the house he could see had already been organized.

"Zim?"

"Ah, Dib-stink is finally awake," Zim had said, not looking away. Dib had noted with amusement how the Irken so casually used his spider legs to reach the top of the shelves on the bookcase.

"Wait, what are you doing? Is my dad not home?" Dib asks.

"No, he left this morning just a few hours after you so rudely abandoned Zim," he explained. Dib ignored the jab, flopping onto the couch.

"He usually doesn't work Sundays."

"Yes, he mentioned that as he greeted me. I was rearranging the area he referred to as a 'pantry'. Your father is quite oblivious to his conversation partners," Zim noted. Dib hummed.

"Usually is. Why are you organizing the entire house?"

"Zim was bored and his thoughts distracting, so he kept himself busy," Zim explained simply.

Dib opened his locker, yawning. He hadn't stayed up that late over a weekend since his observatory days in middle skool. Still, he grabbed everything he'd need until lunch and headed for his first class. He was almost there when he noticed the atmosphere in the hall shift.

Dib looked around. Everyone was either facing their lockers or making their best attempt at an inconspicuous, but hasty, retreat to their class. Dib used his height to look over the sea of heads. Zim was down the hall. Students were parting from him like the Red Sea.

Dib was eventually shoved out of the hall intersection by students. He caught Zim's face as he went to his own classes. He had a smug smirk. Dib rolled his eyes, heading to his own class. Of course he was proud of this.

Dib found himself losing focus during class. He could hear his classmates talking about last week, about Zim. He didn't concern himself with it, however. Most of the conversation was about the incident being an addition to their list of how he was weird. Still, Dib was nervous to see him at lunch.

When he saw Zim sitting at his empty table Dib made his way to him quickly. "Zim."

"Dib-stink."

Dib sat down, dropping his books on the table with a smack. The action hardly drew any attention to their table. "Zim, you've heard what everyone is saying."

"Yes, of course. With my superior hearing. I am unconcerned," Zim said, resting his head in one hand. Dib grimaced at him. He noted the lack of a lunch tray.

"You're not going to try and buy a lunch anymore, are you?" he asked.

"No, Zim sees no need anymore. It is a small detail. Zim has noticed you look exhausted," he says. Dib scoffs.

"Humans require sleep," he says. Zim smirks.

"How unfortunate."

"Mhm. Actually, I had a question."

"Zim is impressed, as it has been a few days," Zim says. Dib spits his tongue out at him.

"Curiosity never dies. That's the driving force to science! Anyway, I was wondering what school on Irk was like? Since you don't have a way to choose your own career paths, do you have to learn everything?" Dib asks.

Zim's eye went up as if he was cocking an eyebrow, and Dib could imagine he was perking one of his antennae at him right now. "Zim does not know what you mean by 'everything'."

"Well, humans get a general education up through high school. Then after that we can choose a career path to follow and get a more specified education with that in mind for a degree. Or more. Since Irkens don't do that, what was school like for you?"

"Invaders hardly need schooling. Irkens are given access to the entirety of Irk History. A base knowledge is automatically downloaded to our consciousness and stored in our PAKs. That is our 'general' education, as you put it," Zim explains.

"But I thought you said Irken Invaders had training," Dib points out. Zim hummed.

"Yes, I recall mentioning that. We do need training for certain positions. Invader is one of them. That is done at proper, specialty facilities and bases. Any other positions are taught to us via our PAKs or superiors when we arrive to perform the duty. We have no 'schools'."

"That's… a weird thing to not have. Well," Dib pauses. "I guess not so weird since you're all connected to a central compute hub. You're essentially cyborgs in that respect."

"A what?"

"Cyborgs are half human half machine. Well. They're bio-organic? It gets blurred when you go from cyborg to android sometimes. I'm going with cyborg," Dib says. "It sounds cooler."

"Ah. Zim believes he has made several of those."

"Yeah, I remember seeing a few," Dib groans. Zim smirks again and Dib lightly smacks his arm. "If you have no semblance of a school, then how do you learn to socialize? Or is that downloadable content, too?"

"It can be," Zim says. "Irkens must know about the nuances of our society before we are released upon the Empire. That is included in our base training after we emerge. The downloads come in spurts and take time."

"Like usual computers," Dib mutters. "Is it weird being a cyborg?"

"How would Zim know, he has not been anything else," Zim says exasperatingly. Dib laughed.

"Fine. What's having your PAK feel like. It's attached to your spine. Doesn't that ever… feel weird?" Dib asks. He eyed the instrument wearily. Zim blinked slowly at him.

"I do not know what you imply. Do you inquire if Zim can feel the attachments?"

"Yes."

"Zim can… occasionally feel them, yes. When my PAK is being suspended by my extra limbs, or pressed against a surface, they become more… prominent to Zim's senses. It rarely ever hurts. PAKs are designed to be as unnoticeable as possible so as to blend into our bodies and functions as an organic portion," Zim explains. "Like how he imagines your robotic prosthetics must be designed. As inferior as those are."

"They're better than what we had," Dib says with a chuckle. "But, yeah, they don't sport wi-fi… yet."

"Heh. Zim admires human determination. It is almost as commendable as an Irken's."

"Gee, thanks. Zim do you do your homework?"

"…That is an odd question to suddenly ask, Dib-stink."

"As odd as asking if you can just say 'Dib'?" Dib asked. The sarcasm was dripping from his tone, but the verbal message flew straight over the alien's head.

"No, that question is a reasonable one and a sound inquiry," Zim reasoned. "The answer is no, Zim does not do his homework. There is hardly a point."

"How did you graduate middle school?" Dib asked. He recalled never seeing the Irken at graduation. At that time, however, Dib had already been confident enough in Zim's waning plans and schemes to enjoy the day to himself. Now the absence seemed more out of place.

"Zim took every test and quiz, he simply did not do the work assigned for his time at home. A mighty Invader such as myself would not waste their time with such a trivial chore," Zim explained.

"But that's not how… you had to have done some of it to pass."

"Ah. That. Zim handed it to his base computer to look up answers and fill them in," Zim said, waving his free hand. Dib stared at him, mouth open.

"You dirty cheater!"

"Does it really matter if Zim is not a 'real' student?" Zim asks. Dib shook his head.

"It's the principle of the matter-"

"HA! Zim does not care for that, obviously. I had better things to do with my time."

"Oh, clearly. You cheat. I'm curious why you never cheated when we fought," Dib says absently.

"Because Zim wanted the only challenge on this dirt ball to keep living. As I am sure you know, I could have easily disposed of you early on," Zim says, clacking his gloved claws on the table. Dib glowered at him, crossing his arms and leaning back. Dib eyed them a moment before laughing.

"That wasn't threatening at all," he jokes.

"Zim is glad he can still instill fear into the Dib-stink, even if it is unnecessary now."

"WOW, thanks," Dib said. Zim gave him a crooked grin and roamed his eyes around the room.

Dib let him soak in the addition to his ego for a while. He looked at the time and swore internally. He'd completely missed lunch. They had two minutes left. Dib groaned. Right on cue his stomach growled. Zim perked up at the sound.

"What was that strange noise? Are you ill?"

"No, I'm hungry. I totally forgot to get a lunch today," Dib grumbled.

Zim huffed and reached back to his PAK. Dib made a face at the angle Zim bend his arm to do so. Zim pulled his hand back and threw something at him. Dib caught it—barely—and examined the object. It was a block wrapped in similar wrapping that he'd find a candy bar in.

"And this is…."

"A 'snack'," Zim answers. "You didn't eat so Zim is offering you something you can eat."

"But… wait a second. Zim, is this Irken food?" Dib asks incredulously. "Can I eat this?"

"Yes, it is. How is that an issue? Zim was able to eat your 'chocolate' just fine."

"That doesn't mean I'll be able to eat this, Zim. I'll admit I didn't think it completely through that your species would be able to ingest every ingredient in chocolate-"

"Zim's PAK would have taken care of any toxins, regardless," Zim mused.

"That's an advantage you have," Dib points out, examining the bar. "What if something you commonly eat is toxic to me?"

Zim hummed. He swiped the bar back. "That is a valid point, Dib-stink. Zim will test his rations for future occasions you forget to eat."

Dib snatched it back with a laugh. "I didn't say I wasn't going to! A chance to eat alien food? How can I pass that up?! I'll have to try it my next period, though."

Zim glanced up to see the lunch room had mostly emptied now. He stood up, issuing Dib a goodbye and leaving him to gather his things. Dib had to run to his next class, taking an empty seat in the back. The teacher only gave him a brief glance before starting their lesson.

Half way through Dib dug out the bar. He was grateful that the wrapping was silent—as silent as candy wrapping could be even if it were extraterrestrial—and wouldn't get him easily caught. He was hesitant to take a bite. He had just pointed out this could potentially kill him.

Dib decided screw it, he was eating alien food. He was mentally checking it off his bucket list when he took the first bite. Looking back, Dib really should have thought through the fact Irkens ate snacks for millennia. He should have prepared better for the assault on his taste buds from the sweetness of the snack. It took everything he had not to choke in the middle of class on the taste.

He was tearing up when he was finally able to swallow the bite. Taking a quick glance around he noticed that no one had seen his episode he regarded the snack. It was delicious, but it was too delicious. He tested the taste more. This was definitely going to give him some form of alien diabetes.

He took another bite.

Zim was waiting at Dib's locker at the end of the day. Dib ran up when he caught sight of the Irken, huffing when he hit the locker. "Zim! That snack-"

"Too sweet for your Human tongue?" Zim teased.

Dib dropped his books into his locker, taking his backpack out to pack. "Yes, it was. It was diabetes-inducing. But it was good."

"Zim is unsure what 'diabetes-inducing' means, but he will assume it is a strange compliment?" Zim pressed. Dib laughed.

"Yes, it is. If I had to describe it I'd say… it was like a very rich truffle combined with… brigadiero."

Zim blinked at him. "Dib-stink realizes that Zim does not know either those terms."

"Right. Um, well a truffle is something like a filling covered in dough and dipping in something. It's sometimes icing, sometimes sprinkles, sometimes something else. They're delicious, I'll take you to a shop and you can try some. Brigadiero isn't from here, it's from Brazil, I think? Gaz made it once for her elective cooking class. She decided if Dad was going to make robots fix our meals for us for the next ten years she was fixing her own. I don't blame her. And she taught me some of what I know," Dib explained. Zim waited patiently for his ramblings to cease before intervening.

"Oddly kind of her," he says. Dib shrugs, slamming his locker door shut.

"If I starved or died from food poisoning she'd be alone in that house," Dib says. "Even she couldn't stand constant silence."

"Hm, yes, Zim agrees. It can be very… suffocating after a long period," Zim states matter-of-factly.

"Well, now you have me to bother you," Dib beams, flinging an arm around Zim's shoulders. Zim rolled his eyes, not seeming bothered at all by Dib's full weight being flung against him.

"So, my house for games or yours?"


	10. How the Universe was Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had fun exploring this topic a LOT. Delved more into my Irken religion headcanons and a little splash of my own beliefs because they happened to fit.
> 
> Enjoy!

Dib looked over at the stack of homework on the coffee table. It was difficult to see from his position upside down on the couch, but the stack of books was still prominent. He sighed dramatically, letting his head lull against the sofa. Zim peered at him from one book he had perched on his lap.

"Is Dib-stink ready to begin again?" he asked.

"Begin what? You watching me torture myself with midterm papers? You and your stupid cheating computer," Dib grumbled.

"Zim is keeping himself busy," he said, holding up the book.

"You're reading '20,000 Leagues Under the Sea' not doing homework," Dib spat. Zim chuckled. A throaty noise that had put Dib on edge at first, but didn't faze him once he'd learned it was different from his usual 'evil plan' chuckle and meant he was enjoying himself.

"Zim doesn't need to learn human homework, he did enough schooling on Irk."

"Speaking of, I want to know more," Dib said.

"There is little more to learn of that topic, Dib-stink," Zim says plainly. "Do not use Zim as a means to procrastinate your own work."

"Uuuugh."

"Or make those odd noises. Gaz will do what you call 'giving you hell'," Zim pointed out. Dib grimaced. Gaz was in her room, for now. But he didn't want her coming down just yet. She'd been surprisingly unfazed at Zim coming over on the regular and not trying to kill her brother.

"I'm so braindead from homework right now. Distract me. Can I hear more about your planet's religion?" Dib asked. "Like, how does it say the universe was made?"

"Why does Dib-stink insist on asking Zim such insufferable questions?"

"Oh, come on! I haven't asked a question in weeks!" Dib pointed out stubbornly.

"Yes, Zim was enjoying the lack of interrogation," Zim teased. Dib flipped himself back into a proper seated position.

"So, does it say It created it all like most of the human gods did?"

"Not quite," Zim began, flipping a page. "Your prominent religion states your 'god' created everything in a very short time. That is what Zim assumes, as the concept of time is a construct for species to make sense of happenings around them."

"Don't start a lecture on time theory, stay on track," Dib joked, leaning back onto the couch. Zim smirked.

"It had the forethought to create science in its wake to make the universe function without falling into disarray and eventually non-existence," Zim explains.

Dib furrowed his brow. "Soooo, did it create life?"

"In a sense," Zim said. He let Dib stew in the half-answer until he saw he was about to burst and finished. "It let the universe 'roll', as you say. It allowed the chemical reactions to take place, the series of events to unfold, and the elements to form around It. Every that is came from Its forethought to create such complex actions and reactions. It has little hand in much else."

"That's a merging of science and religion!" Dib exclaimed. "I can get behind that, maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Well, it sounds more like your species is worshipping science or the universe as a whole. 'It' is everything around you," Dib explained. "That's how I'm understanding it."

Zim blinked and looked up from his book. "Is Dib-stink forgetting the part that It can split into a multitude of forms and therefore must be physical in some aspect?"

"No. For all I know that could have been misinterpreted and was a metaphor for It being everything in the universe," Dib explained confidently. Zim looked up from his book, letting it fall flat on his lap.

"Zim… has not thought of it that way before," he admitted. "Hm. It would be an interesting conversation to have if Zim had a fellow Irken to contact who was willing."

"You don't?" Dib asked, grabbing his books to start his work again.

"Zim has few contacts, and fewer who would be so willing admit such a taboo as openly discussing our belief system," Zim explains. "As well, Zim is an outcast to Irken society."

Dib frowned at the statement. "Well… I'm an outcast to my society so… we have that in common. We have some solidarity in that regard."

"Does Dib-stink no longer commune with this 'Eye' group, then?" Zim asked.

"I stopped a while ago," Dib admitted, chewing on his pencil as he read. "They never took me seriously. What was the point? Plus, you and I were fighting less and I didn't want to tell them much about you as the years went on. I'm pretty sure they'd revoke my membership if they knew I was friends with an enemy."

Zim didn't respond, even when Dib laughed at the notion that he was an enemy at their current standing. He hummed to himself, fiddling with the page of the book. Dib hardly noticed, engrossed in his work in a matter of moments.

"Humans have such high imagination," he mused.

Zim shut the door to his base behind him. The slam of the door went unnoticed, causing him to look around the base's main room. He moved to the kitchen, finding it empty as well.

"Computer. Where is Gir?"

"A rave," was the dull response.

Zim gave a click of his tongue and moved for the lab. It figured the robot was dancing again. Zim found himself more grateful Gir was intelligent enough to keep wearing his disguise when he left than when Gir was able to find his way home without destroying anything.

Zim fell into the recesses of his base, book in hand. When he reached a room he didn't use often he discarded the book on the center table. He wasn't nearly as far in as he had hoped he'd be. Zim made a mental note not to blame his ability to read 'English', as his PAK had downloaded every language on the planet. He knew the reason was that he had been distracted the last half of his visit at Dib's residence.

"Computer, start up Zim's record," Zim ordered.

The computer did so with no response. Zim had intended to begin writing immediately, but found himself unable to articulate the correct words. He looked over that the book. It was… different to have a form of entertainment that wasn't the television or live entertainment available on Irk. Aside from portable content downloaded to his PAK for his training, Zim hadn't seen a physical form of data in years. And, certainly, none that was used solely for entertainment.

Zim had been confused when Dib had first explained the concept of 'fiction' to him. But he soon realized that it was a similar process to how weapons were conceived. He hummed, taking the controls and moving to the start of the record.


	11. Nature

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was fun, and relaxing, to write! I ended up going way more in depth with my headcanons on Irk and Irken biology. Enjoy!

Dib chucked an apple core into the trees. Zim heard it soar farther than Dib would know with a twitch of his antennae. He honed his hearing and picked up birds singing, squirrels foraging, and bugs soaring through the air. Dib reclined in the tree branch, letting his legs hand off the edges.

Zim sighed. The sun was warm, the wind was low, and the shade was covering his eyes. He was at an epitome of relaxation. He could have fallen asleep, contemplating setting his metal legs out to simulate a net. Dib sighed next to him, pulling him from the stupor he was in.

“Zim?”

“Hm.”

“I should really show you a National park. Or a Marine Sanctuary. Or a reef. If you’re staying, you should experience as much of the Earth as possible,” Dib mused. Zim grunted beside him.

“Zim has plenty of time to do those things,” he says. “And Dib-stink need not worry about the experience, it will always be new to Zim.”

Dib puckered his lips. He swung his legs, thinking. Zim let the silence stay, preferring to fall into his stupor once more than continue to interrupt it. Dib hummed and looked thirty feet below to the ground. Gir was in disguise, sitting at the base of their tree. For once he was being patient.

“Have you never been to a planet with vegetation?” Dib asks. Zim supposed he couldn’t assume that question came from nowhere, given their location. He cracked an eye open, closing it again from the light.

“Zim has, but vegetation is not uniform across planets, Dib-stink. That much should be a common, and obvious, assumption.”

“Humans have never been farther than our own moon, Zim, we don’t know that as a fact,” Dib said with a chuckle. “THAT should have been obvious.”

“Do not patronize the mighty Zim!”

Dib laughed, holding his position in the branches as Zim hit him. “Ok, but seriously. I should. I know you said Irk was converted to all metal, but do you have access to what it would look like before that? With your PAK?”

Zim sighed, holding up his hand to indicate he needed time to check. He scoured through his PAK’s connected resources and Irken memory banks. The PAK swept through the archives to the earliest stored memories.

“They were…” he paused, experiencing the images in a quick succession. “…not covering the planet as they once would have when PAKs were created and connected.”

Dib’s eyes widened. He nearly fell from the branch as he scrambled to sit up. 

“What did it look like?!” he asked. Zim flattened an antennae and grimaced.

“Dib!”

“Sorry.”

Zim settled back down, sifting through the archives. “The predominant color in plants appeared to be yellow. Our atmospheric composition changed their color from the dominant green you are used to.”

“Your atmosphere gave you yellow plants? Ahaha, that’d be weird to see. A yellow plant that isn’t dead.”

Zim smirked. “Weird for you, Dib-stink. A planet’s atmosphere determines plant color, they can change on many planets. It depends on what light is let through the most.”

“So, there could be red plants on a planet?”

“Yes. Some planets have plants colored in the infrared spectrum. You, Dib-stink, would not see their true color. But Irkens have superior eyesight, and Zim would be able to see colors in that spectrum.”

“Wouldn’t it have to be really dark for them to use infrared? I couldn’t see them anyway,” Dib sighs. “What about oceans? Did your planet have those?”

“Almost every planet that is habitable would have an ‘ocean’, Dib-stink,” Zim stated, as if it would be obvious. Dib surmised it likely was a question he would have known the answer to had he given it thought. He shrugged it off.

“Whatever. Did it have any life in it? Earth’s life evolved from our oceans.”

“Irkens do not possess that knowledge, nor did we care,” Zim states simply.

“What?!”

Zim slams his hands over his antenna at the sudden noise. “Dib-stink you will deafen Zim if you do that again!”

“How could you not care?! You literally edit your own DNA for evolutionary purposes and you never bothered to research how you got to the point before that?!”

“For what use would that have been?” Zim asks. “We needed the knowledge of where we were at the time, not before. Aside from this, it does not matter. Irk has been converted to all metal, there is little to no evidence of what was before Irkens evolved into Irkens. We evolved, we modified, we conquer. That is what it is.”

“You say that so casually-”

“Because there is no fixing it,” Zim says plainly. “Why dwell?”

Dib opened his mouth, closed it, and repeated the action several times. Zim pondered if he was ill before Dib sighed dramatically and flopped back against the tree. “Damn it, that’s a good point.”

“Of course it is, it was Zim’s point,” Zim says triumphantly. Dib chuckled. He suddenly sat up, almost knocking Zim off balance.

“Wait! You can learn about the entire evolutionary process using Earth species! There are entire books and documentaries on the theory. Personally, I don’t think it should be considered a theory anymore, the evidence to back it is enough to say it’s fact, but… the scientific process is what it is. Anyway, I’m rambling now-”

“Yes.”

“-but, you can learn everything about evolution and biology that you want from Earth. You’d know more about it than any other Irken!”

Zim hummed. It was a tempting prospect. He sat up, stretching. “Zim will consider it.”

Dib knew he was teasing him. He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure.”

“To answer Dib-stink’s question,” Zim began, extending a leg for Dib to grab. Dib grasped it at the joint, letting Zim lift him off his branch and into the open air. Zim removed his gloves, storing them in his PAK. He began their descent, using his other three metal limbs for support. “Yes, Irk had an ocean at one point. Irkens used to hunt the aquatic and terrestrial lifeforms.”

“Did you use boats, like humans?”

“They could be called that. They were ‘fishing’ vessels. Many human hunting techniques would be a common occurrence on other planets of highly intelligent civilizations,” Zim says.

“You just admitted humans have high intelligence,” Dib mocked. 

“That being said,” Zim growled. “Other life forms evolved to hunt effortlessly without the aid of invention. Irk conquered once such planet early in our history.”

“Were Irkens always conquering planets?” Dib asked. “Seems like something that’d hit an end at some point. Haven’t you ever thought of what would happen if you ran out of planets? What would you do?”

“Zim… does not know.”

Dib waited for more, but Zim wasn’t talking. He looked down to see Gir running excitedly in circles. Zim dropped from the tree, lowering the limb with Dib so that he could land himself. He did so with a thump, narrowly missing Gir as he ran by him.

“Well, um…” Dib began awkwardly. Zim gave him a curious glance as he composed his disguise for their walk home. “Well, I think Irkens could do what you’re doing now. Just… enjoying living. And learning. On new planets with new species.”

“Irkens do not… socialize,” Zim explained. “Few planets have treaties so that their colonies are not conquered. They are primarily trade agreements.”  
“Why do you need trade agreements? Don’t you use resources from planets you conquered?”

“Resources are limited,” Zim says. Dib regretted the question. He had known that. He could have answered that on a test when he was a child. His face turned red and he turned to begin their walk home. Zim followed, ignoring Dib’s embarrassment. “Humans do the same thing. It’s economics.”

“Heh. Alien economics. That’d probably still be a boring class,” Dib muses. He turned back to Zim as he ducked under a branch. “Were there mountains? And streams? And forests?”  
“By the time the PAK was initiated, our planet was much like yours. Dwindling resources, areas of land, and untouched expanses. Our native fauna had gone virtually extinct as well. After that, plants were inessential.”

“But- don’t you have to breathe?” Dib asks incredulously. Zim laughed at him, throwing his head back.

“We do not have to eat for months at a time, nor drink liquids. Breathing was child’s play after those adjustments. What few foliage was left was used underground in facilities that pumped the necessary air into the landscape above. If we used it at all,” Zim said, remembering the stacks supplying air standing beside the factory smoke stacks. One would have the smoke of industrialization billowing out while the other appeared to emit nothing at all.

“You… your species converted the entire surface? The entire thing? What about those rare patches of land you told me about?” Dib asked.

“Those are on other planets. It is merely rumors if there is but one on Irk,” Zim says. He pauses. “But Zim can see the appeal of such rewards. Nature is quite beautiful. If Zim had conquered this dirtball, he would enjoy the outdoors most.”

Dib stared at Zim for a moment and then stared down the path. He glanced back at him several times, trying to process the information. “You. Your species. You enjoy nature because you miss it, I’m calling that now. You have memories of every Irken before you that wore a PAK, your species must be having some weird nostalgia for nature. No wonder you calm down so fast when we go to the park.”

“It is… peaceful,” Zim says. Dib caught the genuine smile cross Zim’s face and smiled himself. Zim breathed in deeply, letting out a content sigh. “Relaxing. Irkens do not relax often.”

“Now you have a lifetime of relaxation,” Dib said. Zim faltered in his walk. He blinked and looked at the forestry around them. He hadn’t thought of that.


	12. Music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summer was full of plans for the first few weeks, so sorry for the delay in this chapter, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless!

Dib knocked on Zim’s door. It was after school hours, and Zim hadn’t come to classes the entire day. Dib rocked on his feet, waiting patiently for a good few minutes before knocking again. This had been going on for an hour now. He finally leaned forward, letting his head hit the door and supported his weight.

“Ziiiiiiim,” he groaned. He kicked the door. “Come oooon.”

The door suddenly flung open and Dib toppled inside. “Gah!”

“What do you want?” the computer asked. Dib rubbed his face, readjusting his glasses. He dropped his backpack onto the couch.

“Where’s Zim?”

“Out.”

“All day?”

“Yep.”

Dib furrowed his brow at the clipped answers. He strolled into the kitchen. He opened the fridge, expecting at least some food to keep up the act but found only Irken sweets. He debated taking one and shut the door. He wasn’t ready to eat one again just yet.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” Dib asked. He sat himself down on the couch, kicking his legs.

“No. Why?”

“Because I’m bored and wanted to hang out,” Dib said. He had noticed before he and Dib were friends that the computer of Zim’s base was an AI pertaining its own thoughts. He just wished it had a less aggravating personality. He grabbed his ipod and zoned out.

He snapped back into reality when Zim shook his shoulder. “Dib-stink? Dib.”

“What? Oh,” Dib removed the headphones, the music playing softly from them. “Hey, sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“What are you listening to? One of those ‘pods’ you had mentioned?” Zim asks, examining the earbuds.

“First off, it’s ‘podcast’. Secondly, no. It’s music,” Dib explains. He started to roll up the earbuds, but paused. “Do you want to listen?”

Zim gave him a skeptical look. “Do those contraptions work on antennae?”

Dib blinked and laughed at himself. “Oh, that should have been obvious to me. Here, I have songs on my phone.”

Dib scrolled through the playlists, looking for the right introductory song. Zim sat down next to him, waiting patiently. Dib caught him dozing out of the corner of his eye when he finally found the instrumental playlist he was looking for.

“Here,” he said, pulling Zim back from his stupor. 

He held the phone between them, music playing softly from the speakers. Dib watched Zim’s antennae flick at the sounds. They began to keep time with the song’s base, moving only just slightly to the beats. Zim sighed, leaning back.

“This is also relaxing,” he says. Dib smiles.

“I’ve got different genres. Types of music. Here’s some rock,” Dib says, clicking away at his phone. Zim jumped off the couch yelling at the sudden change. Dib started laughing, unable to control himself when Zim turned to him, glaring. “What? Give you a heart attack?”

“THAT,” Zim shouted, pointing to the offending device, “is not music!”

“Yes, it is. It’s Rock. Hard rock, to be precise. The last type was ‘Chill’ music. I don’t know if it has an actual genre or not, but that’s what I see it get called,” Dib said, surfing through the music a third time. Zim cautiously sat beside him again.

“And something so different is considered the same?” he asked.

“Yeah. There’s dozens of genres. They change with the culture, too. Here’s some music I pulled from a band in India.”

Zim listened to the music, antennae flicking the entire song. When it ended he pulled a device from his PAK. “Zim likes that sound. It’s being added to the PAK.”

Dib glanced at the screen, seeing the internet displayed, and did a double take. “Wait, you have access? Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Not at all, Zim is ‘piggy-backing’ off the humans next to his base, as you call it,” he explains. Dib saw a download screen pop up and smirked. 

“Getting every single song?”

“Of course.”

“Zim, there’s enough music out there to keep you listening for the rest of your life. And yes, I am serious when I say that. Humans have had music since we began evolving,” Dib says, catching Zim’s doubtful look. The alien huffed at him, pulling his legs up onto the couch to sit cross-legged.

“Show Zim other ‘bands’.”

Dib spent the betterment of several hours introducing Zim to every genre he knew.

“This is called ‘punk rock’.”

“How many rock genres are there?”

“You’d be surprised. This is pop… alternative… trance… indie… blues… classical… country… folk… hip-hop… jazz… r&b-”

“Dib-stink, why is there so many? How do humans keep up with this many kinds?” Zim asks, having enough tabs and downloads open to crash Dib’s phone at that point. Dib was envious.

“We don’t usually look up a band for everyone and get every song they’ve done. Some people only listen to one, or a few. I like to have as many options as possible. I’m surprised you like so many.”

“They are all new to Zim.”

“Irkens don’t have music, either?”

“We do,” Zim says, pausing. “It is not like this. Well, it is like some of this, but very standardized. Most Irken media is.”

“Explains the addiction,” Dib teases.

“All Zim has dealt with on a regular basis is Gir’s supposed ‘singing’,” Zim groans. Dib chuckled, skipping through songs to find a genre he hadn’t introduced yet. He contemplated playing music from alien movies, just to mess with the Irken. Maybe later.

“Well, that is pretty horrible to deal with on a regular basis,” Dib says. He set his phone down. “I think that’s everything I have. There’s more online.”

“There’s more?!” Zim asks incredulously.

“Of-course there is. There’s billions of humans and lifetimes of media we’ve made. It’s impossible for me to see it all. You might catch up eventually. Or not, we don’t really stop.”

“Why is that?” Zim asks.

“Why’s what?”

“You do not stop creating? Does it get exhausting?” Zim asks.

“Mmm… sometimes. But it’s fun and relaxing… and feels good. We get to use our imaginations,” Dib explains. He heard Zim hum. When he glanced over Zim’s antennae were dancing. They halted and Zim seemed to have a realization.

“Like when I created new weapons.”

“Yeah, that’s one way to do it,” Dib affirmed. “Most people just do it in art fields. Or technical art fields like with car designs and architecture. Or energy, I guess. There’s some interesting solar energy tech out there I should show you, you could power your whole base.”

“Zim would enjoy not relying on his neighbors to pay their bills,” Zim says. “That had been an issue before.”

“I’ll show you later,” Dib says. Zim hums, setting down his device.

“Zim likes to tinker,” he began. “Is that a use of imagination?”

“Yes.”

“It is not always a good one,” Zim says. Dib thought for a moment it had been a question until he caught the tone of Zim’s voice. Dib looked at him. Zim was staring at the wall. Dib reached a hand up and Zim stood, walking to the TV. “But, that is not something to worry about. Zim would rather play games.”

Dib watched him set up the console, trying to decide. “Zim-”

“Zim will explain perhaps at a later time, Dib-stink,” Zim says. Dib didn’t want to let the matter drop. But Zim wasn’t going to talk. He put his phone away, taking the controller without protest. He’d say something when he was ready. Dib just hoped it was before he was in his eighties.


	13. Careful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this is a long one! At over 3000 words I decided to cut it into two parts. Enjoy!

The science lab smelled strongly of cleaning chemicals and the leftover stench of the last experiment. Dib nodded his head to the beat of the stereo. The room was empty except for one or two stragglers from the club meeting. The teacher gathered their papers to grade, nodding at Dib as they packed it away. “Going to lock up for me again, Dib?”

“Sure Mrs. Sanders.”

“Thank you, Dib,” she said, moving towards the door. She had her hand on the handle when she paused. “Oh, hello, Zim. We just finished. Dib’s at his usual desk.”

Dib looked up to see Zim slip into the room. “Thank you,” he muttered, quickly making his way to Dib.

“Hey,” he greeted, stowing away the last of the cleaning supplies. “I thought you hated the way it smelled in here.”

Zim grunted at him, moving closer to the windows. Dib eyed him and chuckled. “You’re holding your breath, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Zim gritted between his zipper teeth. He threw open a window, breaking the lock, and stuck his head out. Dib shook his head as the alien took a deep breath and started waving the air in the room to the window.

“Zim, that doesn’t work unless the fans are on,” Dib says. Zim glares at him and Dib quickly starts pulling the chords. The fans started whirring to life. Soon the room was free of the smells, fresh air cycling in. Zim let out a gasp, shutting the window.

“Zim does not comprehend how Dib-stink can stand the smells of those chemicals,” he spits. He reached the for lock and stopped. “Ah.”

“Yeah,” Dib says, leaning against the window panes. “As I said, I thought you hated the smell. And I was still right. Why didn’t you just wait outside?”

“It is boring outside,” Zim says. He glanced around the room. It was now empty. “And Zim needed to… borrow some supplies.”

“What?”

Zim moved past him to the cabinets. Dib rushed in front of him, flinging out his arms. “Whoa! Hey, no! I’m the one locking up. Mrs. Sanders will think I stole them.”

“Zim made sure she saw him enter so that she would have two suspects if she saw supplies missing before Zim returned them,” Zim explains. Dib groans, running his hands through his hair.

“First off, no that doesn’t mean I’ll be out of trouble. Secondly, you know that the word ‘I’ exists, right?” Dib asks. It was rhetoric but Zim still scoffs at him.

“Of course!”

“Then use it,” Dib says. Zim glowers at him.

“….”

Dib smirks. “You want to say ‘Zim’, don’t you?”

Zim growls, pushing him out of way. “Shut your meat-trap!”

“Hahahaha! I knew it! You’re too used to the ego boost you get, aren’t you?” Dib teases. Zim ignores him, examining the cabinet lock. He had already decided that breaking it outright would not help avoid suspicion. A limb extended from his PAK, delivering a lock picking kit. Dib sighed. “You’ll just shove me out of the way again, so I’ll just annoy you with questions-”

Zim groaned. He still started on the lock despite Dib’s threat. Dib smiled, taking it as his cue to continue.

“You can rip that door off the hinges. I know because of what you did to Chunk. So, why don’t you?”

“Zim thought it’d be best to avoid suspicious evidence left behind, Dirt-monkey. That is also why the lock is being picked, not broken.”

“Ah. That probably was obvious,” Dib mumbles. He puckers his lips, trying to think. “Oh. What chemicals do you need from here you can’t get somewhere else? Maybe without picking a lock?”

“They are the most easily accessible. And quickest. Zim does not want to bother attempting to ‘purchase’ any chemicals from the stores. And Zim needs volatile chemicals that this lab happens to use,” he explains. Dib snorted.

“Oh, you’re looking to use stuff that could cause some trouble if teens took it,” he says. He had a joking tone that quickly soured. “Wait, you’re not planning something are you? I was really hoping you were past that, and hadn’t lied to me.”

“Do not sound so hurt, Dib-stink,” Zim says. The lock clicks open and the door swings. Zim stands, triumphant. “Zim just needs some for an experiment.”

“And that would be?” Dib asks caustiously. He saw Zim reach for one container. The label he could see read had Dib grabbing Zim’s hand. The alien jumped, almost hitting Dib in the chest with his arm before catching himself.

“Do not do that!” he screamed at him. Dib took his hand back, throwing them up before him.

“Acetylene? That’s for the welding class, what do you need that for?” he asks.

“Zim is surprised you know that considering Dib-stink never bothers with that room. Zim does not understand why, Dib-stink is an experienced builder. You would do very well,” Zim says. He grabs the container. He dodges out of Dib’s reach, storing it quickly in his PAK. “Perhaps teach it.”

“Stop trying to flatter me, why do you need that?” Dib asks. Zim scoffs, moving behind Dib in a second. He lifts him up by the back of his jacket, walking back to the cabinet. “Hey!”

Dib kicked, trying to wriggle free. Zim ignores him. “Zim need smore than that.”

“Why?! Answer me, for Pete’s sake!” Dib whines.

“Zim already did. An experiment. Maybe two… or five.”

“Ziiiiiim.”

“Zim just wanted to try some experiments he came across online. The science teacher at the school has yet to bother trying to teach them, so Zim was going to do so himself…. Does this school lack Acrolein?”

“Wh- of course it does! That stuff is on the banned list, it’s too dangerous! It could kill somone if they even breathed it in, WHY WOULD WE HAVE THAT?!”

“That is a shame,” Zim mumbles. Dib hears another container land in his PAK.

“What was that?”

“Some Chloride solution,” Zim says. Dib hears him rummage through the cabinet some more. “There is a lot more in here than just what the lab needs.”

“It holds every chemical for the high school. The welding shop, the art class, the-”

“Yes, yes, where is the Sodium Sulfide?” Zim asks, dropping Dib to the floor. He grabbed a desk corner to steady himself, turning to the alien sourly.

“Why do you need that? Why do you need any of this?” he asks. “Where did you find websites that listed experiments for these?”

“Dib-stink would get his answers faster if he simply assisted,” Zim says plainly. Dib sighed heavily, looking on the taller shelves. He grabbed the container, shoving it towards the alien. 

“Here.”

“You’re aware most of this is toxic, right?” Dib asks.

“Zim has measures in place. This is hardly the first time Zim has used hazardous materials,” Zim says, shutting the doors and locking them again. “That aside, you need not worry about Sanders finding them gone, it is the weekend.”

Dib groaned, following Zim out. He was sure to lock the door behind them. “You know, this would be better if you just got a bank account like a normal person.”

“And put what in it?” Zim asks. “Does Dib-stink not recall that Zim lacks a job?”

“No, I just. Guh. Okay, I don’t know where you would get the money,” Dib admits. He slung his backpack around his shoulder, stomping down the hall.

“Precisely,” Zim says. He followed Dib out of the school, turning with him to his house. “This forethought is part of why Irkens are the superior species.”

“UUUGH,” Dib sighed. “Zim, you always gloat that Irkens are superior and deadlier, yet you never killed me. So why do you always brag about it?”

Zim eyes him curiously. “If Zim had killed you, Dib-stink, he would have been severely bored. Without a competent rival this planet would have been too easy to conquer. Zim prefers a challenge. Was this not explained already?”

“No, it was,” Dib mumbled. He readjusted his backpack, standing straighter. “I’m just saying. Never seen anything about it.”

“Zim would prefer he not kill you, is that not good?” he asks.

“It is,” Dib says. “You could probably slice me to ribbons with those claws, right?”

“I could do more than that,” Zim says with a cackle. “Irken claws are venomous. You would likely not do well even if you lived past the fight.”

“Is that another reason you wear the gloves?” Dib asked. He poked at Zim’s hand. Zim yanked it away.

“YES. Irkens must be careful with our hands.”

“That’s got to be annoying.”

“The gloves assist us,” Zim assures him.

Monday came faster than Zim had realized. Dib had managed to entertain Zim over the weekend with experiments of his own. They had created foam and dabbled in mediocre science. Though, Zim was not above himself to admit they had been entertaining. He’d done his own experiments when Dib inevitably passed out. He had been sure to use as little as possible, not wanting the teacher to suspect much.

Now he was on the school’s top floor in the early morning hours, cursing himself for neglecting to arrive sooner when it was still dark. His metallic limbs kept him steady as he looked for the broken lock on the windows. He was halfway across the room when he finally spotted it, pulling the pane up and slipping inside. Zim had finished picking the lock on the cabinet when he recalled Dib warning him the night before about returning the chemicals soon before he had left for his own house. Zim grimaced. Dib was not allowed to know he had still forgotten. He was getting out of practice.

Zim was about to shut the door, all chemicals back in place, when he heard the lab door handle shake. He ducked behind a desk, donning his disguise when the intruder entered. “Who’s in here?”

Zim didn’t answer, looking for ways out. He pondered going for the air ducts. He’d be able to move quickly through them, but would risk the human seeing his PAK limbs. The door next to him on this end of the room was still locked. He could break it down, but that would risk his cover. He looked back to the window, still open a crack. If he ran, he’d be a blur and could reach the roof. He had just decided on that as his first course of action when the human ran over and shut the window pane.

“I know you’re still in here!” he shouted. Zim cursed himself. It was the school’s overnight guard. His flashlight roamed over to Zim’s end of the room. He moved behind a desk with cabinets built in, shrinking to fit the small space he could graciously call cover from the light. The guard didn’t seem to notice him. “Come out and you’ll only get detention.”

Zim stopped himself from scoffing. He heard the cabinet door behind swung open. “Oi! If you stole from the cabinet, you’re in a lot of trouble! Bargain’s off the table, now!”

Zim took the chance of the guard rummaging through to check the chemicals to flit from desk to desk towards the open door. He was not getting caught. Dib would not let him live it down. Zim was two desks away when the light hit him.

“Hey!”

He bolted. He was out the door in a human heartbeat, running down the hall. He stopped at a corner, hiding from the guard’s immediate sight. He heard the man calling down the hall. He had to leave, or he had to hide. Zim negated the prospect of picking a door’s lock and ducking inside. It would take him too long. He couldn’t laser the doors off and risk blowing his cover and have the police looking next. He started looking for the vent openings that were wide enough to fit him. He was halfway down the hall, trying to act as if he belonged.

The guard rounded the corner, spotting him. “Hey! Stop, I have a question for you!”

Zim paused, allowing the guard to reach him. “Yes?”

“How’d you get in? The school isn’t open for another hour,” the guard began. He was probing him. Zim held his ground, three lies already at his tongue.

“A side door was unlocked… I let myself in.”

“Mhm. I locked all the doors before I started my shift, none of them were unlocked.”

“Perhaps one of the locks is defective,” Zim said, moving away. The guard grabbed his wrist, yanking him back. He shown the flashlight in his face, forcing Zim to squint.

“Not so fast. You’re the only one here. You were the one in the science lab, weren’t you?”

“Of course not.”

“Yes, you were.”

“No, you’re mistaken. Release me, or I’ll press charges,” Zim said, pulling his arm away. His hand slipped free, but his glove came off. The guard held it out of his reach when Zim tried to grab with his still gloved hand. He held his other at his side. “Give that back to me, now.”

“Answer my question honestly. Were you in the lab, and if so why? If you tell me now, you’ll only get detention. You didn’t take anything from the cabinet, I checked.”

“You’re mistaken,” Zim repeats, making a grab for the glove again. The guard was too tall, however, easily keeping it out of his reach. Zim grit his teeth, quickly growing tired of this. “I warned you.”

“What?”

Zim kicked at the guard’s gut. He toppled over, unable to breath. Zim swiped for the glove with his exposed hand, using the other to shove the guard down. He was gone in seconds, down the hall and back to the science lab. He was climbing out the window and reapplying his glove when he noticed the blood. It was less than a drop, but it was enough for Zim to pause.

He raised himself to the roof and examined his claw. The very tip was dyed red. He openly swore in Irken, kicking the roof’s ledge. A chunk of the brick his foot hit fell away. He looked down to the windows, seeing the light of guard’s flashlight. He leaned away, moving silently to the center of the rooftop. He heard the guard swearing up a storm, and then slamming the window shut.

He groaned, forcibly putting his glove back on. The amount on his claw could mean two things. A ) He had hardly scratched the human and they would be fine. Or, B ) his claw had moved too fast and only collected the small amount of blood and he had gotten the human well enough.

Neither situation was good, considering he had assaulted the guard and was easily the most identifiable student in the school’s roster. He paced back and forth, debating the situation. The school’s first bell rang when he finally made a decision, whipping out his phone and typing away.

Dib sat in class, worrying over where Zim had been that morning, when he felt his phone buzz. He checked to be sure the teacher hadn’t heard it, and slyly moved it from his pocket to under his desk.

'Dib-stink, Zim has made a mistake.’

Dib furrowed his brow, not pleased with that opening at all. He typed back in a flurry.

‘What does that mean? Are the chemicals still gone? I told you last night to bring them back!’

Dib waited, pretending to listen to the lesson until the next buzz.

‘They are returned, but Zim was caught.’

‘Are you in the office?’

‘The roof’

‘Why?’

‘The guard- that idiotic pest- caught zim by luck. He may have been injured’

‘What did you do?!’

‘ZIM DID NOT INTEND TO’

‘WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN???’

‘Zim will explain. Meet me on the rooftop between classes’

Dib stared at his screen. He typed back his agreement and slipped it back into his pocket. He pressed his hand to his forehead, already forming a headache. When he hit the rooftop, Zim was sitting next to the door, arms crossed and glaring at the sky. Dib sighed, sitting next to him. “What happened?”

“Zim checked the guard during classes,” he began. He caught Dib’s mouth open and spoke over him. “Using the vents. He is not well. The nurse gave him anti-inflammatories, but that will do very little.”

“Very little- wait did he actually catch you? Like got a hand on you? How did he manage that?!” Dib shouts. Zim leans away for a moment, placing a hand on his head.

“LOUD. Zim was acting normal… should have just broken down a door,” he grumbled. “He took Zim’s glove and refused to return it. My claw nicked him when I took it back.”

“Good enough to make him sick?” Dib asked.

“Zim had been hoping not, but Irken venom is very invasive and persistent. One drop is apparently enough to do the job,” Zim says. Dib was surprised to hear a lack of pride in that fact, but ignored it in favor of learning the situation.

“Okay, so how bad is it?”

“He will be deceased by tomorrow,” Zim says flatly. Dib gawks at him. Zim looks over when Dib’s silence stretches on too long.

“That fast?! You just said it was a drop!”

“Yes, and that is invasive and persistent!”

“Venom doesn’t work like that-”

“Irken venom attacks cells-”

“What? It’s cancer on your fingertips?!”

“Essentially it would be a highly aggressive strain, yes.”

“Is there a cure?” Dib asks, standing now. “You can’t be under investigation for murder, Zim. They’ll look for a poison, come up empty when toxicology has no idea what it is, and you’ll need to answer for that. That could be a way to blow your entire cover.”

“Zim is aware of the situation, Dib-stink!” Zim screams at him. “My PAK has been formulating past instances for solutions. Perhaps an old recipe to use. So far all Zim can find is a solution that slows the progress used in torture interrogations many millennia ago.”

“Modify it to stop the progress instead. You can do that, right?” Dib pleads. Zim could see the fear in his eyes plainly. He shrugs.

“Perhaps. If I can make it potent enough. Alternatively, Zim could devise his own antidote. Irkens have one, but it takes several days to manufacture. Zim would need to improve the solution.”

“Do both, whatever comes up first we’ll use. If it slows it down long enough to get the antidote made, we’ll just use that,” Dib says hurriedly.

“There is another issue,” Zim says. Dib glowers at him. “I would need to hold the human until the antidote is made to ensure he does not accidently infect another. His blood or saliva is now possibly contagious.”

Dib blinked at him. “You said it was a venom, not a virus.”

“It attacks all cells. If it encounters cells outside the host body it does not matter to it. Once out of a living being for three hours, however, it becomes null due to death or open air,” Zim explains. “This is how it keeps planet inhabitants from becoming extinct when Irkens used to hunt for our food.”

Dib groaned loudly, pulling at his hair. He paced on the rooftop, hearing the starting bell sound. He turns back to Zim. “Okay, so… you’re going to have to kidnap him. Nice. Perfect. Just great.”

“You are rambling,” Zim says. He stands, stopping Dib’s pacing and directing him towards the door. “Dib-stink, go back to class. Zim will handle this.”

Dib stops his foot at the door. “Do you know where he is?”

“Zim will,” Zim says. He forces open the door, shoving Dib inside. “Get to class, now.”


	14. Careless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a short vacation with family and couldn't work on this much as a result, but hopefully it came out well! There IS going to be a part 3, I am already starting it, actually. So stay tuned and enjoy!

Zim sat on the rooftop until the final bell had rung and students began to trickle out of the building. Dib snuck to the roof through the rush of students leaving. He met Zim at the center, sitting down beside him. Zim had his alien pad out again, flicking through pages of what Dib could only surmise were chemistry notes.

“Have you not moved all day?” he asked.

“No. Though, Zim has found a likely antidote. Boosting the suppressor recipe using Zim’s own venom as the base should allow it to attack what is left in the guard,” Zim explained. He rested his head in one hand, waving the pad around. “It will take hours to synthesize using Zim’s own machinery. It’s been modified by me for more efficiency.”

“And you haven’t shared that with your Tallest yet? I’m surprised, Zim.”

“It was not part of Zim’s mission and they showed no interest in it. Their mistake,” Zim says curtly. However, Dib could hear the small amount of pride in ZIm’s voice at the small rebellion.

“How are you going to get the guard to your base? Lure him?” Dib asks.

“Zim was merely going to kidnap him from his own residence. The Voot Cruiser has a beam to carry objects or creatures into its cargo bay. Zim will use that. The guard weighs significantly less than what the Cruiser can carry, Zim is sure.”

“Wait, your cruiser has a cargo bay?”

“A small one,” Zim explains. He pockets the pad into his PAK. Dib shifts uncomfortably.

“You’re going to kidnap him as an alien, right? Not disguised and you’re going under the cover of darkness, right?” Dib asks.

“Don’t be idiotic, of course that’s how,” Zim says. “Is Dib-stink worried?”

“Don’t patronize me,” Dib says, shoving the alien. Zim chuckled, easily swaying back to his previous position, arms crossed. “You don’t know where he lives, by the way.”

“The school computer does,” Zim says simply. “Zim will simply find his file and address after everyone has left. Sports activities will cause Zim more waiting, however.”

“Go between the end of practice and everyone leaving, that’ll be the point when it’s least suspicious to be in the halls. If you use them,” Dib explains, standing. Zim raised an eyebrow at him but Dib only shrugged. “Just an observation. You’re not going to steal from the science lab again, are you?”

“Do not patronize me, now,” Zim says, kicking Dib’s foot. “I will contact you when I have the guard. Go home and sleep, you look utterly dreadful.”

“Teasing! But hey, that’s what a whole day of stress will do to you,” Dib teases. He stops at the rooftop door, hand on the handle. He turns back to Zim. “Can I help? At all?”

“It would be safer if you did not,” Zim says, laying out for the wait. “There is greater chance of being caught with two of us, and Zim is not bringing Gir either.”

“You’re going alone?” Dib asks. He marches back to the alien. “Going without me I wasn’t happy about, but I expected you to at least bring Gir!”

“Do you really wish Zim bring that screaming bot?” Zim asks with a scowl. Dib pursed his lips at the alien. He had a good point. Dib screamed in frustration, kicking at the roof.

“Damn it, I know that makes sense, but you could get hurt doing this-”

“It is one scrawny human-”

“Yes, we’re aware we’re not the strongest or baddest on the block. That’s why we made weapons.”

“There is a weapon on my back!”

“You don’t have a gun, Zim,” Dib says. The Irken opened his mouth to refute and paused. He sank back down to the roof. “Or a knife. Or a sword. …Okay, actually, I can’t think of why he’d have a sword. But the other two options remain viable. It’s not hard to get knives and guns around here.”

“No, but Zim has many Irken weapons that can be used just as well. Some better,” Zim assures him. Dib sighs, running his hands through his hair. Zim looked down at the concrete.  
“Just… don’t get caught and don’t kill him. We’re trying to go for the opposite result. If you need help, you CALL ME. Got it?” Dib asked. When Zim didn’t immediately answer Dib stressed his tone. “GOT IT?”

Zim gave a snort, shooting up and guiding Dib to the door. “Yes, Zim will call. Zim will call regardless when the deed is done if it will ease your mind, Dib-stink.”

Zim opened the door and set Dib inside. Dib turned to him, holding the door open. “Just so you know. The guards aren’t allowed to bring their gear home. I see them set their stuff back into their lockers, but that doesn’t mean they don’t know how to get a weapon. Half the guards here used to be police. Promise you’ll be careful?”

“Do not worry,” Zim says. Dib let him shut the door, turning to walk home. He wasn’t sleeping until he knew Zim was at his base that night.

 

Zim sat on the roof, tapping his claws on the concrete. He watched the last of the students file into the school after practices. He quickly made his way down to the main floor, climbing into a vent outside the access door. Snaking his way through the maze of shoots, he checked each downward opening for the rooms or halls he was above. It took him ten minutes to find the main office. 

He gripped the sides of the grate, pulling up slowly. The sounds ricocheted through the vents. Zim focused on the task, patiently lifting the grate until the screws snapped. The sudden release of a hold had Zim jolt, but he kept his balance, placing the grate to the opposite side of the opening. 

He used his PAKs mechanical limbs to lower himself into the office and carry him to the computer. He grabbed a cable from his PAK. Once hooked up to the computer Zim was disappointed to find the security lacking. Dib’s own computer put most units to shame on a regular basis but this was laughable. Zim was in and out with the data within a minute.

He climbed to the roof again, scaling down the side to the sports fields to make it home as inconspicuously as possible. It was still several hours until night fell, allowing Zim time to distract Gir when he was preparing for his mission. It was easy. He simply tossed the robot a jar of jelly, loathing the clean-up he’d have to endure later, but desperate to ensure the robot wouldn’t interfere. 

Beginning the antidote was less so. Dib had shared a video of how snakes had their venom extracted. Zim was surprised to learn that a similar method had worked with his claws. He’d essentially drained his reserves, mixing most of it into different amounts to be sure one of them would work. He had six hours to wait and find out. Zim set the containers to synthesize, locking them behind a metal grate in case Gir decided to fly.

Afterward it was only a matter of inputting the guard’s home address into the Voot Cruiser and he was in the air. The guard lived far from the city, just past the suburbs. Zim was glad, there would be less witnesses. It was nearing midnight now, as dark as it was getting Zim turned off the Cruiser’s outer lights and set it into autopilot while he prepared the beam and cargo bay.

He reached the house as he exited the cargo bay. Zim flipped the inside lights off. The Cruiser hovered over the center of the house. Now he needed him to come outside. Zim thought for a moment and revved the engine of the Cruiser. He repeated the action until the guard, clearly angered but not in the shape to be leaving his house, stomped out onto the back porch.

“Who is doing that?! It’s almost one in the morning!”

Zim took the shot, hitting the beam and taking the guard by surprise. He screamed being lifted into the sky, but would have been heard for only a few moments. Zim steered back to his base. It was a second of silence before the guard was slamming against the cargo door, swearing. His blows were weak, growing weaker the entire flight to Zim’s base. When they had landed in the roof, Zim exited out the front. He listened for any movement from the human, but heard nothing.

Zim grumbled to himself. The guard should be alive. Conscious was another matter. But that only meant that he’d be easier to transport. Zim left the Cruiser for a moment. He moved to a control panel, speaking through the system.

“Gir, come up to the attic. You’re transporting a specimen.”

Gir’s voice cracked over the speaker in response. “Be there in a second!!”

Zim unlocked the attic doors. He could attempt to keep Gir from smashing it off its hinges this time. He should simply remove the door at this rate. He moved to the Voot Cruiser’s cargo bay doors, snatching a rope from the wall on his way. He wasn’t having the human wake up halfway down the elevator unrestrained. 

He had the rope unraveled and ready when he hit the button. For a moment, the doors opened with no movement form inside. When the bay door hit his shoulders, he heard Gir on the other side of the room smashing down the doors. They hit the floor along with Gir at the same moment a shot rang through the attic.


	15. Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so long to work out how I wanted it to go. I struggled with which direction to take, so hopefully you enjoy reading!

Zim felt the bullet hit his left shoulder. He fell out of the way of the doorway, tumbling to the side of the Cruiser. The guard shouted at him, something unintelligible that was comprised of victorious hooting. Zim growled. He wanted to harm the human back, but he had promised Dib he wouldn’t kill him. Pity. 

“Gir!”

Gir shot up, launching himself right into the Cruiser’s cargo bay. Zim could hear the guard shooting at the robot and hitting the walls of the Cruiser instead. Gir laughed the whole time, bouncing off the Cruiser walls and, undoubtedly, the guard. The shots stopped, but the screaming and noise increased. Zim pulled himself using his good arm to the edge of the doorway, turning away. A limb from his PAK shot into the cargo bay, knocking anything it touched around until the guard was finally pulled out. Gir was latched into his face. Zim was surprised he was still coherent enough to keep from trying to shoot Gir whilst he was on his head.

He spotted the gun in his hand, knocking it out with the limb. It flew across the room, hitting the wall. Zim threw the rope to Gir. He was quick to tie the guard. He started to bounce on the guard’s back next. Zim tried to stand, immediately collapsing.

“RRGH. GIR. Take the human down and throw him into a cell. NOW,” Zim ordered, gritting his teeth. Gir squealed, grabbing the human, and flying out the door. He was yelling swears at Zim until they had entered the elevator. Then he started to screaming questions and pleading. Zim didn’t care if he was left with Gir for now.

He looked up to the attic’s roof. “Computer. Call Dib. Now.”

“You should probably be in the med-”

“ZIM SAID NOW!”

“I am, I am,” the computer droned. Zim heard half a ring before Dib’s voice came over the speakers.

“Zim? Did you get him back to your base ok?”

“No,” Zim answered, grunting as he used his limbs to lift himself up. He kept pressure to his wound, feeling with his good arm (as much pain as it caused) and found no exit. Damn that stupid human.

“What do you mean? What happened, are you ok?”

Zim didn’t answer immediately, using his PAK to carry himself to the elevator. 

“Zim?! Hey, are you still conscious? What happened?”

“I was wrong. Just get here,” Zim says. He had made it to the kitchen when he blacked out.

\--- --- ---

Dib was sprinting up Zim’s walkway when he reached the house. The door didn’t waver when he got to the porch and he slammed into it. He fell to the sidewalk, scrambling back up almost immediately.

“Let me in, it’s Dib!”

The door clicked and Dib threw it open. At first glance, nothing was out of the usual except for the deafening silence. Dib cautiously walked further into the house, closing the door behind him. The silence was unsettling, like walking in a horror movie.

He took only a few short steps into the living room before freezing. His stomach plummeted when he saw the trail on the floor. The liquid was clearish-pink, trailed along the floor from the door to the attic until it hit the elevator in the living room. Dib had to take a step back and think. This didn’t mean he was… he was likely fine. Dib walked closer to the liquid on the floor. He looked around it, for a sign of anything else.

The floor and part of the lower half of the wall was singed in a haphazard pathway. Gir’s doing, no doubt. The singe marks pulled Dib’s gaze to the floor around the liquid. There were small ticks in the tile. Dib moved around the pink substance into the kitchen. It wasn’t a trail until about a third of the way from the attic’s door. Dib looked up to the stairs, where drops of the substance was on every other step. He looked at the steps. No marks. Dib looked intently at the tiles. The marks hadn’t started until the trail began. He followed it back to the living room.

“U-um. Computer?”

“What?”

Dib had to ignore the fact the computer seemed more irritated than usual. He would worry about that- wait. “Where is Zim? He called me, is he-”

“In the medic-bay,” the computer barked. 

The small side table slid over, offering the elevator open to him. Dib ran to the platform. It fell into the main body of the base at a much faster rate than Dib had experienced before. He had to ignore the pool of the substance at his feet. When the elevator finally began to slow Dib rushed off into the hall. The trail continued, but it had less volume the farther into the base it went. Dib followed it through several turns until he hit a door it turned into. The light above it was slowly fading on and off in a deep red.

He could hear machinery running inside, but nothing else. He had to steel himself before grabbing the frame of the door and pulling himself inside. It was the only thing he could think of to get his feet to move. Once in he saw Gir deactivated in the corner and the trail steadily disappearing the closer it came to the table in the center. The liquid was blood. Dib swayed, hitting the wall. He didn’t know how much blood an Irken could lose. He didn’t know anything about Irken blood.

Zim was laying on the table, but he wasn’t moving. Dib wanted to run up to him, but the PAK was…. working. More specifically, Dib noted, the limbs were working.

Dib watched the mechanical limbs that Zim used to lift them into trees perform surgery. The ends opened to reveal instruments they needed and then closed when they had no use. Dib inched his way around the table, keeping to the wall. He was not getting closer. He made it half way around the room when he hit a storage cabinet. He attempted to move around it, immediately regretting his decision.

The leg closest to him froze. Dib froze with it. He had a second to make a decision and chose to run. He was inches from the leg when it shot out at where he once stood, piercing straight through the metal cabinet door. Dib lunged for Gir, holding the robot up in front of him. It was his only option, hoping the robot also had some defense system when it was shut down.

The leg shot at him again, but froze when it was in front of Gir’s face. Dib tried not to breath. He watched the limb intently. It moved to the left and Dib moved Gir with it. Each movement Dib countered until it appeared to lose interest and return to its work. 

Dib let out a deep sigh, dropping Gir in his lap. He heard a ‘tink’ from the operating table.

“C-computer?”

“What now.”

“What are they doing?”

The computer sighed heavily. “I don’t have time to answer this,” it says. Dib ground his teeth, looking away from the table. After a moment, the computer relented. “Operating. Obviously.”

“What happened?”

“The prey had a weapon. My database informs me it was a ‘gun’. A projectile hit him. They’re operating to get it out. As I said.”

“You didn’t explain it, you bucket of cynicism!” Dib shouts at it. He holds Gir up again in case the noise alerted the limbs. They ignored him. Dib hesitated, but then decided he could stand. 

He held Gir at his chin, slowly moving closer. The limbs were stitching up Zim’s shoulder. The bullet was in a tin on the table beside the alien. Now that he was closer, he could see the pile of drenched paper towels in a bin to his right. Zim still wasn’t moving, but he looked like he was breathing.

Dib waited until the legs were drawn back into the PAK to attempt getting closer. He had waited almost three minutes before cautiously setting Gir down. “Zim?”

No answer.

“Zim?” Dib asked again. When the Irken still didn’t respond Dib looked up at the wire ceiling. “Is he going to be ok? Is he just sedated?”

The computer was silent. “… he may be alright. His injures were severe enough to render the PAK to employ its own medical care. This includes synthesizing any medication and reverting him to an unconscious state. Until the pain medication wears off.”

“How long will he be asleep?” Dib asks. He slumps down beside Gir, pulling his knees up. “Can I help?”

“I don’t know how long, and probably no. Just wait. And stop asking me questions.”

Dib pursed his lips. “Don’t have to be so mean because you cared,” he mumbles. The computer doesn’t respond, but Dib was sure it had heard. He took it as a victory. Dib sighed, settling down to wait.

\---- ----- -----

Dib kept track of the time while he waited. His pone battery slowly started to die on him after four hours. He’d almost passed out more than once. He was about to do so again when movement on the table jerked him awake. He heard a hoarse voice swear and scrambled to his legs.

“Zim?!”

“Not so loud, Dib,” Zim groaned, sitting himself up. Dib went to hug him and stopped short. Zim had leaned away, positioning his shoulder farther way. “Perhaps not a good idea.”

“Right, right, sorry. Does it hurt?” Dib asks. Zim blinked at him. “Sorry. Right.”

Zim sighed, slipping off the table. He wobbled and Dib grabbed his good arm, steadying him. Zim groaned again. “Zim needs a better place to heal.”

“Do you have a bed?” Dib asks. Zim shakes his head.

“Irkens usually do not require sleep,” Zim explains. Dib looked at his pale complexion worriedly.

“Why were you asleep? Your PAK’s self-defense almost killed me,” Dib says. Zim paused, testing himself before taking his first few steps. Dib hovered beside him, ready to catch him if he fell.

“That’s what PAKs are meant to do.”

“Did it… carry you down here?”

“You sound distressed about that,” Zim observes. Dib kept at his side until they hit the elevator.

“It’s creepy,” Dib says. “But, I will admit it’s impressive. It operating on you was… more horrifying.”

Zim scoffs. “And you wanted to dissect aliens at one point. Still feel so compelled?”

“Don’t tease me about that,” Dib spits at him. He stands in the elevator, watching Zim lean against the side. “Are you going to be ok?”

“Zim just needs rest.”

The elevator lifts them to the living room. Dib watches blinds block out the windows as Zim goes to the couch. He lays on it, hardly caring how. Dib awkwardly steps around the blood. He’s half way to the couch when it hit him.

“The guard!”

Zim furrows his brow, his antennae bending back. “What about that filthy human?”

“Zim, he’s still got the venom. Where is he?” Dib asks. Zim takes a moment to respond.

“Mmm… Ah. The holding cells. The cure should already be synthesized in the room to the right of it. Just needs an injection to the human…” he mumbles. Dib waited, hearing nothing else. He walks over, only to see Zim had already fallen asleep again. Dib groans, moving back to the elevator.

“Computer? Take me down to the holding cells, please. PRONTO.”

The elevator moved quickly down, stopping short of the medical bay. He started forward, looking into each room until he started to hear faint banging. He followed the sounds until he hit a room with a row of glass walls. Dib recalled Zim’s instructions and darted into the neighboring room. A vial sat on a strange machine. He plucked it off, seeing a needle on its end.

He raced back out into the hall and into the cell block. Dib followed the sound down the hall, refusing to look in any of the cells until he heard it right next to him. He saw the guard, laying in his cell. He was pale, his skin sagging, and knocking his knuckles against the glass over one of the breathing holes. Dib crept up to the glass. He positioned the needle to the hole, waiting for the guard to draw his hand back. Once he had, Dib pushed the needle through. The guards hand hit it squarely. The liquid inside emptied. 

Dib pulled it way as soon as it was clear, hearing nothing but a pitiful grunt from the guard. He waited, hiding along the wall. The guard didn’t have the energy to speak, remaining silent. Dib’s only clue he was alive was his shallow breathing. He sighed, moving away from the cells slowly until he hit the main hallway. He carried the vial back to the living room, setting it on the side table.

“Computer? Can you make sure the guard gets clean water and human food when he wakes up?”

“…Sure.”

Dib sat down on the other side of the couch, looking over at Zim.

“Computer?”

“What?”

“Can I stay over tonight?” Dib asks. The house was silent until Dib heard the AI voice sigh.

“I’m not stopping you.”


	16. Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took so long because I had to work on it between projects for school (have to have 2 done before semester start), so I wasn't able to get this out when I wanted! But I'm finally happy with it, so I hope you enjoy a calmer chapter after the last two!

Dib stepped into the base and dropped his bag by the door. He kicked the door shut. He saw Zim sitting on the couch, slouched over half of it. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

Dib sat at his feet, snatching up the remote. “How are you feeling?” Dib asked, flipping channels. Zim groaned, putting a pillow over his face.

“I feel… ill,” Zim said. He turned over, groaning.

“The pain meds again?” Dib asked. He looked over to see the pillow nodding. Dib stifled a laugh and made himself comfortable. “Your PAK is being overprotective.”

“It is thorough,” Zim mumbles. “But, Zim would prefer if they weren’t so strong they caused him nausea. It feels as if my squidly-spooch is going to fight its way out.”

“Yeah, that’s being sick for you. Actually… that’s something I was wondering,” Dib began. Zim groaned loudly, over exaggerating purposefully. Dib chuckled. “Oh, come on, now. Does it supply its own medicine? Like, does it manufacture it?”

“Yes,” Zim mumbles. “It runs Zim’s body. As was explained months ago.”

“I remember. It’s part of your body, attached at birth, stores everything Irken there is-”

“Unless the Irken was defective.”

“Right, unless… wait, what?!”

“UGH, Dib-stink do not screech!” Zim shouts, kicking out at Dib. He hits him scare in the side, knocking the wind out of him momentarily. Dib clutched at his ribs, rubbing the sore spot. 

“Ow. What does that mean? Defective?”

“Why are you so interested? Zim simply means that the Control Brains can choose what PAKs get added to the collective. If they are defective, they are not added. Zim’s will likely not be added upon death.”  
Dib stared at him, mouth gaping. He had to pull himself out of it and shake his head. “Zim, that’s kind of messed up.”

“Zim does not make the decision,” Zim clarifies. Dib slumps back into the couch.

“So, all your memories and ideas and being is just going to… disappear when you die? It’s not going to go back those Control Brains?” Dib asks. At the sullen tone Zim looked past the pillow to him. He sighed, stretching his legs over Dib’s lap.

“Likely. By then perhaps Zim can upload the information to a hard drive… but, by then Zim may be done with living. But as I said, there is an afterlife for us. I will not completely disappear,” Zim says. Dib sighs and crosses his arms.

“I know, I just- hey, you use the word ‘I’!” Dib exclaims, sitting up so fast Zim’s legs were flung from the couch.

“GAH! Dib-stink!” Zim shouts. He swings his legs back, forcing Dib back against the couch.

“Sorry, sorry! I just noticed it!” Dib says excitedly. Zim hums at him, going back to the pillow. Dib saw his breathing start to even out. “Going to sleep again?”  
“Mmm.”

“Is that how the PAK heals you?” Dib asks. Zim hums again, seeming to think of his answer. Dib was patient, knowing Zim would just answer when he woke up if he fell asleep on him.

“Yes,” Zim finally says. “Speeds up the healing process just like the medications. Zim prefers it much more to the medications.”

“Except for the fact the medications keep you from being in a haze of pain rather than nausea,” Dib explains. He hears Zim scoff.

“Maybe so.”

Dib smirks. “I told the teachers your whole family came down with a strong illness. They gave me all your homework. How’s your shoulder?”

“Healing well, given it’s only been just over 36 hours,” Zim says. Dib nods, looking over to where he could see the bandages peeking out from Zim’s shirt.

“I remember you do heal incredibly fast,” Dib says. “We’ve broken each other bones before, if I recall. Though… I’m a little upset yours are harder to break.”

“Hmph. Irken bodies are manufactured to be more resilient,” Zim boasts. He heard Dib snort and eyed him angrily. “What’s so funny?”

“You can’t even handle water.”

Zim sat up straight, throwing every pillow in his reach at Dib’s head. “YOUR EARTH WATER IS FILTHY, THAT’S WHY. AND YOUR PROCESSED MEAT. AND YOUR BEANS!! CURSE YOUR DAMN BEANS!! WHAT KIND OF FOOD BURNS SKIN?!”

“You have alien skin, that’s not our fault! Besides, it kills parasites! You have an advantage in that!”

Dib threw the pillow back at Zim, who caught it easily. Dib tilted his head, getting a better view of Zim’s hands. “Short gloves? I didn’t know you had any.”

“Keeps Zim cool to have shorter gloves,” the alien says curtly. He fluffs the pillow, setting it back under his head and flopping down.

Dib agreed, knowing that the Irken would want something to keep himself cool. He wondered for a moment if he was running a fever. If he knew how to check an Irken for a fever he would. Dib waited until Zim’s breathing had slowed and evened out before he looked up to the ceiling.

“Hey, computer.”

“What?”

“How’s the security guard? The secretary seemed worried when he didn’t show up for his shift.”

“Recovering in his cell. At this rate, his memory will have to be wiped for several days’ time.”

“Oh. You might want to fabricate an email that tells the school he’s come down with food poisoning, or something. Or they’ll start to get suspicious,” Dib says, kicking his legs.

He wondered, briefly, if giving an alien AI system the idea to forge emails was the best idea he’d ever had. It wasn’t. But it was a necessary one. He tried to push the thought from his mind and flipped to a channel showing movies. He settled in until Zim woke up. He hoped the Irken wouldn’t be so nauseous he couldn’t play games.

\--- --- ---

Zim woke up to Dib’s snoring. He groggily looked past the pillow to see Dib sprawled on the couch with him. A quick glance outside confirmed it was night. He couldn’t be sure of the time, but it didn’t quite matter if Dib was going to stay over. Zim figured he had already decided to, and he wasn’t going to be able to get rid of him easily. He opted to let the human stay, it was too much effort when he wasn’t fully healed yet.

He carefully slipped off the couch so as not to make any noise. He was starving. Zim walked to the closest entrance to the lower levels of the base. He absentmindedly wondered if perhaps he should use the fridge like Dib had suggested once weeks ago. He kept his food in a cold storage as it was. According to Dib it was for the same purpose. He’d do that later. He was too hungry—and still waking up—to care right now.

He rode the elevator in a haze. Zim didn’t notice until he was at the food stores that his PAK had opted to carry him there itself. One of the limbs was already opening the door to the stores and grabbing a snack when Zim snapped back to reality. He took the snack gratefully, hardly hesitating in biting down. As the PAK turned him away the same limb jabbed into three more snacks, storing them inside itself for later. Zim heard the door to the food stores shut.

“HEY!”

The voice rang down from the halls, angry. Zim sighed. He’d forgotten the guard.

“HEEEY! GET OVER HERE, YOU BASTARD!! YOU CAN’T JUST LEAVE ME HERE FOREVER!”

Zim could, if he was being honest. But, that would undeniably upset Dib. Zim thought about just going back up the stairs. The computer had already been set on a cycle of when to feed the man. Zim paused. He should check on the man’s progress of recovery. He realized he hadn’t seen him since he’d shot him…

Zim let his PAK set him down and began to walk to the cells. It took him some time, as he was sluggish. The guard shouted profanity at him the entire walk. When Zim finally reached his cell he had taken to shouting down the opposite end of the hall.

“Do not insult yourself by thinking I came because of your shouts,” Zim began, startling the guard. The guard was on the other end of the cell’s door in no time, face red with anger. Though, Zim could see his complexion was still pale compared to the day he’d caught him in the school’s halls.

“Let me out of here if you’re not going to kill me,” he demanded. “Of at the very least fight me, or dissect me, or do something other than leave me here to rot! Hey! Are you listening to me?!”

Zim surveyed him, not responding. He was almost completely cured, despite the ashy skin tone. Zim noted that the near 48 hours still wasn’t long enough for the cure to take full effect. Given that the guard was nearly dead when he arrived, however, the mixture had to have been more potent than he’d anticipated.

“…You look like shit,” the guard says, his tone a mix of spiteful and pride that it was his fault. Zim suppressed a growl.

“And you smell like it, though perhaps Zim should be grateful you figured out the plumbing system,” Zim says, leaning against the hall’s wall. The guard grunted to him, turning away. “You do, however, appear to be recovering well.”

That seemed to make something in the guard snap. “Oh?! ‘Recovering well’?! Only because of what you did to me! …What did you do to me? Am I going to grow an extra limb?”

Zim chuckled at the absurd implication. “Definitely not. It was not my intention to infect you. I had warned you about taking my glove,” Zim says, picking at the tips of his fingers under the thick fabric. The guard appeared uneasy at the sight of the hands.

“What’d ya do, then? It felt like… like…”

“Like your inside were beginning to melt? That is not precisely what was happening, but it is close enough, Zim supposes. It had not been intentional, as was said. Though, Zim did get the chance to see how effective Irken venom is against human DNA. Based on your current state you should be fine by the time I am also healed,” Zim explains plainly. The guard glares at him.

“And then you’ll kill me, eh? I’m not stupid, I know you can’t just let me walk out of here, being an alien an all,” he says. Zim perks up an antennae at that.

“Zim did not say he’d kill you. If Zim wanted you dead Zim would have let the venom finish its work. That was why Zim brought you here. Not that you were very helpful in that matter-”

“YOU GET KIDNAPPED BY AN ALIEN AND SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT!” he shouts. “You panic and then you choose fight or flight, that’s how it works!”

“Why did you have a weapon? Zim is curious. You were in your own yard.”

“In the middle of nearly nowhere,” the guard explains. “Most people who live far out have one. Why are you even questioning that? YOU’RE the one who kidnapped me!”

“To heal you, as was said,” Zim explains, growing impatient. He pushes himself off the wall. “Regardless, you will not remember.”

Zim ignored the guard’s questions as he made his way back to the elevator. He could feel himself starting to wind down again now that he’d eaten. He’d deal with the guard tomorrow. On his way back up to the main level, Zim had to admit one thing. He had underestimated how dangerous humans other than Dib could be.


	17. Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is over 3000 words, so buckle up. It's arguably the longest chapter of the series, after Biology at the start and maybe a few others. That being said: I had fun writing this! There were some factors that kept me from finishing this a while ago when I had planned. Cats and family and what not. But here it finally is! Enjoy!

Dib flipped through the movie options for the seventh time. Most of the day had been spent watching them. Dib made a mental note to get his bike out of the garage and peddle Zim to his house so they’d have a backyard to lounge in. He thought another moment and changed his mind. The park would be better. And while showing Zim the plethora of movie genres humans had, along with his favorites, Dib had to admit he was beginning to get bored. It was already dark out, so he wasn’t going anywhere. He’d overpacked his movies in preparation that Zim wanted to see them all. He didn’t know whether he should be pleased he was right. His legs had started to fall asleep after the third option.

Zim, on the opposing end of the spectrum, was still rearing to go. Dib couldn’t blame him. He was in the last stages of his PAK’s healing process. He wasn’t in the mood to move much at all. Dib finally decided on a movie and set it in to play. He sat on the couch with Zim, putting the bowl of popcorn in his lap. Zim grimaced at it. It was the second bowl Dib had made, filling the base with the smell. He chomped down at it as the DVD loaded.

“I’m saying again- it’s technically a snack food for humans.”

“IT has no sugar or enough carbs for Zim to want to try.”

Dib shrugged. He looked between them to where Gir was sucking on a lollipop. He wasn’t sure what Zim did while he was at school without him, but he was fairly certain he’d been adjusting Gir’s energy levels. He’d been much calmer while Dib was over. Dib chalked it partially up to how Zim had figured out ways to distract the robot for most of the day. 

“And what is this one?” Zim asked. Dib smirked.

“It’s called ‘Alien’. One of the best horror sci-fi films ever made. I know, I know- the name is obvious for what it’s about, but it’s one of the best movies of all time. A staple,” Dib explains. Zim scoffs.

“Contrary to what you think, Zim likes this concept. It is right to fear alien species you don’t know about,” Zim says. Dib eyes him curiously.

“I mean, yeah. Some of the newly discovered species here on Earth are some of the deadliest there are. It’s not too far of a stretch for us to assume it’d be the same for aliens.”

“It’s not an assumption, it’s a fact,” Zim says. “Irkens, for example. We conquer planets on a regular basis. Many species kill when meeting another. It is a way to re-establish themselves in what you humans call a ‘food-chain’. Except this is on a universal scale for sentient species.”

Dib laughed. Zim threw a pillow at him. It bounced off onto the floor. Gir gave an excited yell and opted to move to it instead. Dib took the free seat, moving to the center. The movie was started to pick up. Dib had seen it so often he played it as background half the time. He turned his attention to Zim instead.

“Hey, I have a question.”

“Don’t you always.”

“Don’t sass me,” Dib teases. “Ok, so I was pretty freaked when I saw your PAK… performing unconscious surgery. That alone is pretty…. Well, anyway. Do Irkens have to worry about a PAK doing something wrong? Like humans for example can be born without correct inner anatomy. Some of us have heart defects, so they’re treated differently in surgery. Or need surgery to continue functioning. Do Irkens have that or do you… not allow that?”

Zim picked up the uneasy tone, his antennae twitching. He took his eyes off the movie, making contact with Dib for only a second before he looked away. “Zim is assuming you are implying that we exterminate them?”

Dib sighed heavily. “I didn’t want to say it like that, but yeah.”

“On the contrary.”

Dib sat up, surprised. “Really?”

“Yes. Diversity is a given in any species. Irkens found ways to make it work. If somehow born without all our limbs or defective limbs we simply apply artificial versions. Be it separate entities to the PAK or the PAK acts as our legs and or arms. Though, Zim will admit Irkens with limitations such as that are rarely military or Invaders.”

“Why not?”

“It is more difficult to construct convincing disguises,” Zim states, as if it were obvious. Dib sourly admitted to himself if he’d thought it through that’d be a possibility he’d come to. He pursed his lips.

“Ok, I can see that being the case. Tak’s disguise was holographic, though. It can work for some of them, I’m sure,” Dib argues. Zim nods.

“That is true. However, an Irken born without their lower half would be hard-pressed.”

“Wait that can happen?!”

“Rarely. They were a very intelligent Irken. They got the Control Brain’s permission to augment their PAK to suit their special needs. These kinds of innovations cause Irkens to be less afraid of being injured.… still hurts,” Zim grumbles. Dib chuckled.

“That’s the motivation to not get hurt,” Dib says. “Okay, next question. Do you have different colored eyes? You have red and Tak had purple, are there any others? Humans have hues of browns, blues, greens, and greys.”

Zim thought a moment. “There can also be semi-yellow, blue, or green. That was an easy question, Dib-stink. You’re getting complacent.”

Dib hummed. He enjoyed the movie in silence until the end. He hesitated getting up, letting the credits roll. Zim stretched, the first time Dib had seen in the entire marathon so far. He swung his legs. “How’s the guard?”

“Hm? Ah, Zim had forgotten about that nuisance. He is recovering well. To the point Zim could possibly return him home within the next… 24 hours.”

“Can I come with you this time?” Dib asks. Zim shoots him a glare. Dib throws his hands up, ready to catch whatever projectile Zim decided to toss his way. “Just to make sure he gets inside safe! You’ve already learned your lesson, I don’t have to worry about that. I hope.”

“DO NOT INSULT ZIM!!” Zim screams, throwing the pillow he’d been using at Dib’s head. It hit its mark, sending what popcorn he had left flying for Gir to enjoy. 

Dib heard the robot taking what scattered around the room before he had time to even remove the pillow. He sighed. He’d have to get up regardless if he wanted more popcorn. He threw the pillow back at Zim as he passed by, laughing. He was shutting the microwave’s door when he heard Zim get up from the couch. Dib turned to lean on the counter, expecting to find Zim shifting through the DVDs. He yelped when he turned and saw Zim’s red eyes instead. Dib moved over, leaning on the counter to keep his balance now.

“Zim has a question now.”

“Ugh. Ok. Don’t do that again. You walk like a cat. I can’t even hear you sometimes.”

“That is just how Zim walks. Zim wants to know: what is the purpose is of scaring yourself? This ‘horror’ genre you seem to enjoy so much. It serves no purpose to Zim. You do not use it to train yourselves.”

“Uh, well. Mostly it’s just fun,” Dib says. “Sometimes it can be fun to get scared when you know it’s coming. Same reason haunted houses are popular, I guess. Though, some psychologists are wondering if we’re using the fictional scenarios to plan what we could do in similar situations. Like a learning process. But most people just do it for fun.”

“It is... ‘fun’ to scare yourself?” Zim asks, clearly perplexed. Dib’s face flushed.

“It sounds stupid when you say it out loud…” he says. Zim waved his hand nonchalantly.

“Zim may not understand it, but the base idea he can see the use of. Zim admits these movies have been ‘fun’ to watch,” he says. Dib gives him a concerned look and Zim laughs at him. “Not because of the human deaths. The creativity Zim admires. Some of the creatures in them look very similar to conquered species in the Irken Empire.”

Dib blinked. “Wait, really?!”

“Mm. Emphasis on ‘similar’. They are not exact,” Zim explains. He turns to go back to the couch. Dib noticed the microwave had stopped popping and took his snack out. He was salting it when he came back to the room to see Zim had already set in another movie. He fell onto the couch, settling in.

It was half way through this movie, at a slow juncture, that Dib clicked his tongue to get Zim’s attention.

“Yes?”

“Is it safe to remove the PAK? Since it’s a life source for you? What if it needs repairs, or gets an upgrade?” Dib asks, eyeing the device. Zim shifted in his seat, the prolonged stare making him uncomfortable, but he wasn’t going to admit it.

“It can detach for short amounts of time. Ten minutes is the maximum time an Irken can survive without one,” he explains. “Human biology is much more fragile. You die if one major organ is removed for too long.”

“Zim, your PAK is essentially the most major organ I think you have,” Dib counters. “I can live with less of my intestines or a missing kidney.”

“…Fair enough.”

“So… how does it work? PAK removal. What if a repair takes more than ten minutes?” Dib asks. “Is there like a secondary life support you can hook up to?”

“Yes, in Zim’s base. The system would perform the basic functions of the PAK until extended repairs are done. There is a smaller unit in every vessel and Irken uses. PAKs sync when reattached.”

“Hm. Also like a computer. You could be a cyborg if there was more metal.”

“What’s a cyborg that’s mostly biological called?” Zim asked, only vaguely interested.

“I’m not sure there is a term,” Dib says, digging into his popcorn. 

He started kicking his legs, watching the slasher film hit the climax. Zim was laughing at the more overdone deaths, and Dib wasn’t sure whether he should join in or be concerned. He was picking the next movie.

Dib was shuffling the movies, shoving aside ones they’d watched in favor of something new. Zim had taken some of the movies, putting them in their own pile as his favorites. Dib had made a note to get him copies, if nothing else so that he could keep his own. He heard Zim hum and stand. 

“What?”

“Zim was just notified the Guard is ready to be brought back to his own home. Would you like to accompany ZIm?”

“Get a free ride in your Cruiser? Of course!”

Dib abandoned the DVDs, following Zim to the lower depths of his base. He saw them pass by the cells and into a lower level. He looked at Zim, confused.

“Zim must grab something, first,” he explains.

He holds up a hand to shush Dib. The doors open and Zim made his way quickly to another room. Dib could hear Zim rummaging through the drawers of the room he was in. Dib looked around the hallway. He hadn’t been in this level of the base before. Doors were marked by Irken writing, labeling them, but unreadable to him. Zim emerged from the room and dragged Dib back into the elevator.

“Hey, what floor is this, I haven’t seen it before.”

“Zim stores inventions on this level,” Zim says. Dib looked at the device in his hands.

Zim was tinkering – no, adjusting – a small device that had a chord on one end and a screen. It was slightly bulky, but Dib could have hidden it easily in his back pack. He didn’t have to ask what it was for. The guard was going to have to forget his last few days here. Dib stared at it wearily.

“Will it hurt?”

“Does it matter? He will forget it.”

Dib furrowed his brow. He understood Zim’s logic, but that didn’t help. “Zim.”

“It should not be… too painful. He will have a very bad headache for several hours, but will be unconscious for most of it,” Zim explains. Dib grimaced. 

“Zim, I’m not sure I’m okay with that.”

“Zim didn’t say you had to be present during the operation. He will have no memory of this, and your local police will come to whatever conclusion they see fits. He’ll have nothing to refute it with,” Zim explains.

“But the school thinks he’s been out sick this whole time, can’t it be left a that?”

“Has anyone heard of him the last few days?” Zim asks. Dib faltered. He hadn’t considered if the school would call him.

“So, what, we drop him off at home and just leave him to draw his own conclusions?” Dib asks.

Zim nods, finishing tinkering with his device. When they hit the cells Dib hesitated in the elevator. Zim walked ahead without him. Dib jumped on his heels, opting to just stay put until Zim called for him. He regretted leaving his phone upstairs.

Then he heard the cell door click and taps on the walls from what he could assume were Zim’s PAK legs. He braced himself when he heard the guard begin yelling profanities. He covered his ears when he started to scream. It didn’t drown the voice out nearly as much as he was hoping it would have. Eventually, the sounds died off and he was left in silence again.

Zim, in contrast, had a fight on his hands. He had expected it. He had taken his approach to the cell with stealth in his mind. The guard had been sleeping when he reached the cell. He reached out and unhitched the latch. He rose up on his PAK’s legs, maneuvering into the cramped cell. He waited until he was entirely in the cell to drop onto the man. 

Immediately, the guard began yelling at him, screaming profanities. The guard flailed wildly, swinging to hit anything in his range. Zim held him down at the shoulders, taking the Wiper in hand and setting it at the base of his skull. A press of a button and the guard was just screaming. Zim had had the forethought to pre-program the days he was to forget. Zim doubted he’d able to keep the man from trying to fling him off long enough to accurately input the days in his condition. Soon, the guard was wearing himself thin. Zim only had to struggle with him for a few moments before he passed out completely.

Dib carefully drew his hands away from his ears. The hallway was quiet. He took a step out of the elevator, ready to fall back in if he had to. Still nothing. Finally he worked up the courage to walk further down the hall, recalling where he had to go to find the guard the first time. He was two cells away when he heard Zim grunt.

“Dib-stink!”

Dib sighed and kept walking. “What?”

“Grab the Wiper, Zim only has so many arms,” Zim says. Dib rounded the corner to see him hefting the guard up over his shoulder.

“Uh, should you be lifting that much weight yet? …How can you lift that much weight?” Dib asks, ducking beneath the guard’s legs and grabbing the device. It had been tossed to the corner. He was grateful that there wasn’t any visible blood, but knew better than to think there had been none.

“Irkens are strong,” was all Zim gave him as he left the cell. “We’re taking the elevator to the base level. We can drop the Wiper at the kitchen.”

Dib followed him to the elevator. Zim squeezed in, dropping the guard. Dib stepped inside, pinning himself against the wall. It was hardly enough room.

“Maybe remodel the elevator,” Dib teases. Zim shoots him a look.

“Are you going to insist I make a habit of kidnapping? How out of character for you, Dib-stink.”

“Wh- hey, don’t twist my words!”

“Don’t give Zim the opportunity,” Zim says with a smirk.

Dib went to kick him and hit the guard’s leg instead. Zim laughed boisterously as Dib fumbled to apologize to the unconscious man. His apology only made Zim laugh harder. When they reached the living room Zim was still wheezing. He had to catch his breath before he could hoist the guard back up.

“Should I prep the Cruiser?” the computer asked.

“Yes.”

Dib followed Zim up the stairs, flashing back to the blood he’d seen when he had arrived days ago. He pushed the thought out of his mind. He was certain Gir had cleaned it up for Zim before Dib had arrived the next day. He tossed the Wiper onto the table as they passed. Zim used his PAK’s legs to carry the man up the stairs. When they had reached the top the Cruiser was already up and running.

Zim deposited the guard into the cargo bay. Dib took a seat on an outcropping in the main cabin. The ceiling opened as Zim took his seat and started their lift off.

It was surreal to watch the ground beneath him zoom past him once Zim had decided on an acceptable height. It was surreal to keep expecting it to get further away and knowing it wouldn’t because this wasn’t a plane. Dib was stuck, eyes out the window, the entire trip. Buildings looked close enough to jump onto, even though he knew that doing so would sooner cause him a broken leg.

He hadn’t even noticed when they had reached the guard’s house. Zim found a spot in the backyard to land. He opened the bay doors, rolling the guard over into the grass. Dib snorted, walking to the back of the Cruiser.

“No, no, no. We’re at least putting him on the porch,” he says. Zim groans at him but lifts the guard regardless. Dib followed them, making sure Zim set him down gently. Once satisfied Zim rolled his eyes at Dib, stalking back to the ship. 

“You’ll thank me when his chance of hypothermia lower.”

“Zim really did not care,” Zim says, booting up the Cruiser. Dib sticks his tongue out at the alien, taking his place back in the ship.


	18. Dancing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Been a while, but here's the next chapter! I wanted to handle it right, so the right idea of how to write it took a while to finally hit me. I enjoy touching on differences in societies and cultures the most, and this fic is the best thing for that becauseee ALIEN CULTURE. Love it. Now I get to choose the next chapter topic and start! This semester has been hectic (Senior year) and so writing has taken a step back, but I write to relax so it is still getting done at least.
> 
> Enjoy!

Dib watched the guard’s house until it had disappeared on the horizon line. He turned back and hummed. Zim was focused on piloting, though Dib noticed he barely touched some of the controls, he was primarily monitoring.

“Want to go to my house? I have more movies there. And games,” Dib offers.

“Zim doesn’t see why not. You’ve been accompanying Zim at his base for the last few days. Zim will stay at your house this time,” Zim says. He reached one hand back, his PAK distributing to him his back up disguise.

“Sweet! I think Gaz was at a friend’s house. Dad won’t even notice. He’d probably congratulate me on keeping a friend,” Dib joked. He saw Zim smirk. “Anyway, you can park the Cruiser in the garage.”

Zim looked back at him, confused. “Zim was under the impression he’d be landing at the base and we would walk. Is keeping the Cruiser at your house a good idea?”

“No one will see it. The garage has no windows anyone can see through. I kept Tak’s ship in there the entire time I had it and my dad didn’t even see it. I don’t think he even went into the garage that entire time. He’s almost never home, anyway,” Dib explains.

Zim huffs. “Alright. Zim needs a break from Gir as it is.”

“Gir seemed… he’s never calm, but he was ok tonight.”

“Dib-stink, you are not there when you are attending class,” Zim says. Dib snorts.

“Ok, fair point. How’s your shoulder?” Dib asks, poking the Irken’s arm lightly. Zim pulled away and stuck his tongue out at him.

“Almost healed. It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Zim says, banking the Cruiser towards Dib’s house. Dib looked up to see his rooftop in the distance. Most of the lights in the neighborhood were off, leaving the old street lamps to light the way. He hadn’t noticed how dark his neighborhood was until just then. It wasn’t ideal any other night, but he wasn’t going to complain when an alien was piloting a ship into his garage.

Zim lowered the cruiser above his driveway. The glass front popped open and Dib jumped out. He ran up to the door, punching in the code and crawling under as it raised. He hastily moved the random assortment of junk to the walls to fit the Cruiser. The door stopped and Zim slowly moved the Cruiser inside. Once it had passed the threshold Dib walked to the house door and punched the button, closing the garage behind the Irken. Zim hopped out of the Cruiser, jumping up and using his own weight to pull the glass cover down into place. He grunted when he hit the ground.

“Perhaps it does still hurt a little,” Zim admits, rubbing at his shoulder. Dib grimaced and flicked the lights off. He walked into the kitchen, looking around to see all the lights in the house off. He moved aside, letting Zim through.

“I think maybe Gaz is already in bed,” he says. Zim hums moving right past him to the stairs.

“Does Dib-stink have new games?” he asks. Dib chuckles.

“You’re just rearing to go again, aren’t you?” Dib teases. Zim sticks his segmented tongue out as he practically ran up the stairs in strides that better matched a walk. Dib took his time, knowing Zim would just end up picking a game he liked.

By the time he got up to his room Zim was popping a game in just like he knew he would. Dib sat on his bed, grabbing one of the controllers Zim had thrown up to it. They started the game and Dib started to zone out.

 

Zim tacked away at the controller. He had to hand it to Dib for having some of the best puzzle based games he could have found. The sun was already high in the sky by the time Zim had reached his point, almost at the end of the game. He heard Gaz stir again. She didn’t sleep soundly, he had noted.

This time she rolled out of her bed and opened her door, still half asleep. She was in the hall when she stopped and stared at him. Zim paused the game and looked back at her. She looked from the alien to Dib then back.

“Did he pass out?”

“Yes.”

“Pansy. What are you still doing here? Don’t have your disguise? Don’t tell me you’re stuck here.”

“Zim can leave whenever Zim wants,” he said, resuming the game. Gaz stood and watched him for a moment before stepping into the room. Zim saw her cross her arms over her chest as she did so. “Do you believe the room is haunted, or is it possible you’re actually uncomfortable in here?”

She shoots him a glare. Normally, Zim knew it would crack even the toughest man’s composure but he’d been building a tolerance lately. He simply kept playing, waiting for her response. She sighed heavily, leaning on one leg as she watched the game.

“It’s weird to see you both getting along,” she admits. Zim kept playing but twitched an antennae at her. She waited for him to speak and groaned when he didn’t. “You’re a prick. It’s weird because you guys kind of, you know, hated each other?”

“We did,” Zim confirms. “Emphasis on ‘did’.”

“I didn’t think you knew phrases like that,” Gaz says, kicking away a random toy. Zim chuckled.

“Zim’s been learning a lot. Dib-stink is a good teacher even if he’s not intentionally trying.”

“Careful, he’ll gush if he hears that,” Gaz says. Zim paused the game, laughing.

“Did you just try to be funny?” he asked. Gaz froze. She picked the toy up, throwing it square into his head. He didn’t attempt to dodge it, finding more amusement in her frustration. “Dib says that’s a sign that you’re warming up to someone.”

“It’s hard not to tolerate you when you’re here all the time,” Gaz spits.

“Hmph. Zim is finding life on Earth to be more entertaining and… nice, than he expected.”

“And yet you still can’t speak right,” Gaz teases, twirling around to leave.

“I don’t care if I sound correct,” Zim says. He sees her pause in the doorway and turn to look at him. There was murder in her eyes. He smiled. Gaz growled, leaving down the hall. Zim sat back, returning to the game.

 

Dib took in his surroundings. He was sprawled on his bed, controller long lost from his grip and on the floor. His glasses were askew. He readjusted them, sitting up on an elbow. Zim was nowhere to be seen. Dib yawned, stretching. He checked the time: 1:17pm. He gave what was half a grunt and half a laugh. Figured he’d sleep in past lunch after being up so late the night before. He wasn’t entirely uncertain it hadn’t hit 6 am before he passed out on ZIm.

He knew the alien must’ve left yet. It was broad daylight. Dib groggily slid out of bed, falling onto the pillows the two had shoved off the bed. He wondered if Zim would want something. He knew if Gaz hadn’t gotten up yet she’d be starving. He opted to try a dish he liked. He could shove Zim’s serving into a bowl of sugar if he wanted to try it. He chuckled to himself as he stood.

He made his way slowly down the stairs, smacking his face to wake up. With is eyes half shut he saw movement on the tv, unable to make out what it was, but he heard a video game. Gaz was already awake, good. He only debated for a moment before deciding he would make 3 servings regardless. He was moving into the kitchen when he stopped and backtracked. Taking a second look at the couch he saw two heads. Gaz laughed—albeit menacingly—as Zim’s graphic ship was shot out of the sky.

“Damn you!” Zim screeched, throwing the controller onto the far side of the couch.

“Here I thought you were better at games by now,” Gaz said. She started to choose a new map. “I’m choosing. There are some community custom maps that don’t suck.”

Zim grumbled, sinking into his cushion. Dib watched the antennae vibrate low and then spring up again. He’d seen that happen several times while he and Zim had played before. Zim grabbed the controller again. “Fine, but Zim chooses the ships.”

Dib’s brain was, effectively, blue-screening. He shuffled to the kitchen as they started up their new level. Dib was on autopilot as he grabbed the pot and pan and sorted through his spices. He hadn’t snapped out of it until he was mixing the sauce and the pasta was boiling. He snickered to himself. Never did he think he’d see Gaz playing a game that wasn’t her Vampire Piggy Hunter. Much less a game with Zim.

Dib started to hum, swaying his body to the beat as he cooked.

 

Zim slit his eyes as his ship crashed. Again. Gaz leaned back, proud of herself for the eighth consecutive win. “Give up?” she asked.

“Zim wants a reprieve,” he said, standing up and stretching. Gaz set her feet on the coffee table.

“Fine by me. I can play this console’s version of VPH.”

“That strange game you are obsessed with, yes? Zim doesn’t understand it.”

“You don’t get VPH, but you’re perfectly fine with playing a game with zombies in it?” Gaz asked skeptically. Zim caught her disbelieving look.

“Vampire Piggy’s do not exist. Zim can list at least one species of fungus in the outer systems that affect most species like how the human’s fictional ‘zombie’ operates. Zim can say that a ‘zombie’ can exist,” he explains. Gaz blinks at him.

“That’s awesome.”

“A fungus that makes you a comatose puppet?” he asks incredulously. Gaz nods rapidly.

“Yes, that is what called awesome. What’s it do to Irkens?” she asks. Zim grimaced.

“It was not a pleasant chapter in Irken history,” he sighs. “The fungus is… pervasive. The Tallest of the time decided it was best to abandon the planet. Irkens that escaped were screened and eliminated if infection was found. Simple as that.”

“You didn’t bother trying to find some kind of cure?” Gaz asks.

“There was no point,” Zim says. “Zim will be back.”

Gaz scoffed as he left, setting up her game. Zim twitched his antennae, hearing boiling water over the sounds of the game. He walked into the kitchen, stopping. Dib was moving… oddly. Zim tried to make sense of the movements, but couldn’t find any outside source that would have caused them or the odd noises Dib was making. He could sense a pattern to the noise. After watched for another moment Zim started to connect the noise with the patterns in the movements.

“Dib-stink?” he asks. Dib jolted, yelping. The ladle in his hand flew into the air. Dib scrambled to catch it, managing to guide it to hit the counter. He sighed, looking down.

“Hey, Zim.”

“What were you doing?” Zim asked, moving into the kitchen. Dib resumed his cooking, ignoring the alien’s question.

“It’s almost done. Do you want to try human food that isn’t sweets? I can always drown it in sugar for you,” Dib offers. Zim smirked.

“The PAK should be able to handle… what is this?” Zim asks.

“Chicken and alfredo,” Dib says. He grabs the pot, moving carefully to the sink to drain it. Zim watched him as he prepared the meal. From returning the noodles, to cutting the chicken, to testing the sauce. Dib hummed. “Could use a little longer to heat…”

“What was it you were doing?” Zim asked again. Dib tapped his foot.

“It’s called dancing. Very integral to any human culture. It’s almost something we can’t help but do.”

“What’s its purpose?” Zim asks, sitting on the table.

“Um… well, it depends. Sometimes it’s used in a cultural performance like a war dance, sometimes it’s just for fun, sometimes it’s used as an art piece, sometimes it’s just something to do. It’s hard to explain in full. People just tend to move to a beat. We can choreograph it, but a lot of people just start moving.”

“How does one know what to do?”

“Do you want to learn?” Dib asks, reducing the heat on the sauce. Zim pondered it. Dib poured the sauce into the noodles, adding the chicken next, then stirring it all together.

“Yes.”

“Then come here. I’ll clap and we can start with a simple beat,” Dib says, topping the pot. Zim slid off the table to join Dib half way. Dib stretched, twisting his torso. Zim heard a loud pop and crack. When Dib returned, successfully loosening himself up, he stopped at Zim’s horrified stare. “What?”

Zim sputtered something out in Irken. Dib blinked at him. “…huh?”

“WHAT DID YOU DO??” Zim repeats, gesturing to Dib’s torso.

“I cracked my back—oh! Oh, right, that probably sounded really bad,” he says, realization donning on him. Zim stepped back.

“That’s disgusting!”

“It’s just a spine-”

“IT IS NOT “JUST A SPINE”.”

Dib laughed. “Wow, I didn’t think I’d ever find something that could gross you out so bad.”

“What you just did is horrid,” Zim says, his body shivering.

“Why are you so freaked out by this?” Dib asks. He was beginning to worry.

“PAKs are attached to Irken spines. What you just did could have paralyzed Zim if Zim had tried,” he explains. He stuck his tongue out. “Zim may be sick.”

“Don’t be dramatic. Most species… well, I think most species… should be able to do that. None of us have a giant second brain attached to our spines. Come here, I’ll guide some basic dance steps for you.”

Zim grumbled but complied. Dib started by showing him side steps. “Most dance is with momentum and movement. If you haven’t danced before—and clearly Irkens don’t—you’re going to feel out of place doing any of these.”

Zim copied him, picking up the motions faster than Dib would have guessed. Zim smirked. “Zim can see the appeal with this… tradition?”

“Sometimes. But it’s fun, right?” Dib asked, looking up at him. Zim nods, following Dib’s movements like a mirror. “You’re picking it up almost immediately.”

“Irkens are very good at learning from those around them,” Zim explains. Dib smiled, returning to the food to dish it out onto the plates.

“Gaz! Want some lunch?”

“Sure.”

Dib grabbed her plate, rushing into the living room to give it to her. Zim looked back at his feet, practicing again.


	19. Parents

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took a LONG time to get done because of final projects, but I do hope you enjoy it! I touch on a concept that was never brought to fruition in the show, but I thought it was an interesting (and possible) concept that would've explained some things. Enjoy!

Dib blinked his eyes open. His alarm was blaring. He groaned, slapping his hand over the snooze button. He heard a chuckle. Zim was at his desk, fiddling with some random piece of machinery that he quickly put back in his PAK. He was already in his disguise, scrunched up in the seat. Zim pushed himself away from the desk. Dib forced himself to sit. He rubbed at his eyes.

“Hey.”

“Hello. You sleep very loudly. What is that noise you’re making? Zim has been curious about it for some time,” Zim says.

“Snoring,” Dib says. He yawned, stretching. “Did you never leave? I fell asleep at... at…”

“You fell asleep around three in the morning,” Zim says. He stood, shaking out his legs. “Odd considering it was a Tuesday. It appeared you simply could not sleep. You put Zim under the assumption humans needed hours more of rest.”

“Mmm. Most do. I have a touch of insomnia. Mild insomnia. It’s not too bad, certainly not as bad as most people who have insomnia,” Dib explains. He dragged himself out of bed, snatching a shirt off the dresser as he went to his closet. “Is it cold out today?”

“Your alarm clock’s interface says it will be sixty degrees Fahrenheit.”

“So, yes?”

“For a human, perhaps,” Zim says. Dib grumbles, dressing quickly and going out his room door. Gaz was leaving hers already, giving Zim a nod as she went. Dib heard noise already downstairs, stopping at the base of the staircase.

“Is Dad home?”

“Yeah,” Gaz sighs. “For a second. Maybe.”

Zim felt his wig twitch at the click of his antennae and readjusted it. “Why?” he asked.

Dib shrugged, moving to the kitchen where the noise was coming from. “Dad?”

“Son! You’re awake! Great! Your foreign friend was already here when I got home last night,” Membrane says, adjusting one of his hovering monitors at the table.

“He stayed over- why are you fixing the monitor? You haven’t used it in years,” Dib says, grabbing himself a bowl of cereal. As he grabbed the milk he heard Membrane standing.

“For my labs, of course. It’s gathering dust here,” he says, picking up the monitor. “Son, honey, Zim.”

Zim nodded at him as he left. Zim watched him until the front door shut behind him. Dib was sitting at the table when Zim turned back around. “Are all Earth parents like that?”

“Like what?”

“Vain? Conceited? Loving but allowing themselves to be too busy to spend adequate time with their kids?” Gaz asked, angrily chewing on what Zim recognized as a ‘breakfast bar’. Dib grimaced.

“He’s gotten better,” he says. “I’m not defending him, it’s true. He’s really gotten better at spending time with us. Dad is… not a good example of the average parent. He’s arguably the most important scientist on Earth, until his death.”

“And then he wants Dib to take over. If he ever grows out of his “temporary insanity”,” Gaz says. Zim sat at the table, crossing his arms.

“… “temporary insanity”…” Zim begins. Dib sighs heavily into his cereal.

“The whole ‘belief in the paranormal’ thing. He thinks I’m insane for thinking it’s real. Even though it is,” Dib grumbles. Zim laughed so suddenly and loud that Gaz almost fell back in her seat.

“Jesus! Don’t laugh like that, you do sound insane!” she screams, kicking the Irken under the table.

“Ow. Zim apologizes, but your father is quite… blind to what is directly in front of him. Zim has been coming here for how long now? And he has yet to figure it out? Granted, Dib-stink caught on within seconds. Zim would have expected better from your parental unit.”

“Don’t say ‘parental unit’, it’s weird,” Gaz says. “He’s not like your freaky robot parents.”

“He does adamantly deny the paranormal, though,” Dib says, reaching back to set the bowl by the sink. He only had to lean his chair back slightly to do so. Zim scoffed.

“Zim is not complaining, not really. It allows Zim to come and go as he pleases in this disguise.”

“Speaking of, you ever going to upgrade that, or just keep playing by the old standards?” Gaz asks. She scrunched up the wrapper, tossing it unceremoniously at Dib’s head without looking. He only briefly glared at her before tossing it across the room to the trash. Zim smirked.

“It works fine,” he says. “Perhaps one day, but not today.”

“Actually,” Dib began, standing. “Do you know what Irken parents were like?”

Gaz gave him an odd look. She got up next, leaving before either of them. “What’s that matter?”

“Zim’s been wondering that for most of Dib-stink’s questions,” he says, following her. Dib ran after them.

“Hey, they’re valid questions!” he shouts.

“Whatever. I’M pretty sure we’re genetic experiments,” Gaz says coolly. Zim gives her a look of utter confusion and Gaz shrugs, counting off her fingers. “We never met our mother, there’s no record of our birth anywhere in the house, and we’re freaks—Dib’s the freakiest.”

“Hey…”

“Regardless, we’re alive so whatever,” Gaz says. She grabbed her coat off the rack on her way by. Dib was scrambling to put his on as she left the house. Zim waited for him to pass before shutting the door behind them.

“Where are we going?” Dib asked. Gaz glared behind her.

“I was going to go to Beth’s house. You losers aren’t invited. Find something else to do with your Sunday,” she says, waving them off. Dib’s shoulders sagged as she walked away.

“Damn. I was hoping she’d finally wanted to spend time together.”

“She is an aloof one,” Zim said. He grabbed Dib’s collar, guiding him along. “Zim wants to visit the woods again.”

“Zim says she’s aloof when he just spent hours playing games with her,” Dib says. He shrugged his jacket into place, taking the space next to the Irken on the sidewalk. “She never does that with me.”

“Don’t complain. She would win every round and knows it. That gets boring. Zim presents a challenge,” Zim explains, smirking. Dib glowered at his smugness. He huffed, knocking into the alien. He stumbled, regaining his balance and knocking Dib back. He laughed as he stumbled.

“No, but you’re right, fair point. So…. What WERE Irken parents like? Is that information in your PAK?”

“It likely is, though it would be quite the fall into the data. That is millennia of memories to sift through,” Zim explains. “However… Zim recalls looking for it once while at the Academy. They were much like most parents, Zim assumes.”

“Mmmm, not necessarily,” Dib says. Zim gives him a questioning look. “It changes. Some parent animals abandon their young as soon as they can fend for themselves. Then there are packs. Then society. We raise children and help them into the world, or well, we’re supposed to. I think a lot of alien species would do the same.”

“You would be right. Though, Irkens don’t bother to learn much of the cultures they subvert past what is necessary,” Zim explains. “My robots were primarily for appearances. Irken parents were much like the animals whom would throw their young into the wild upon their ability to survive… your father-”

“Isn’t around much. We were essentially raised by his monitors and learned how to raise ourselves. He cares, he just… doesn’t know how to parent,” Dib said, waving his hands around.

Zim hummed, pushing through some bushes. Dib paused at the sidewalk, watching the alien until he was half way into the trees. It was almost something out of a horror film if he shot it right. Zim turned to him and leaned against a tree.

“Is Dib-stink coming?”

“I thought we were going to go to the park…”

“Zim said the woods, not the park,” Zim reiterated. He walked away, waving over his shoulder for Dib to follow. Dib shrugged, readjusting his jacket. He threw the hood up and climbed over the bushes.

“Fine, but if I get ticks I blame you. I didn’t pack any bug spray,” Dib grumbled. He heard Zim snort at him.


	20. Cruising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS TOOK A WHILE TO GET DONE. As some of you may realize school takes up a lot of time, aha. I'm in my final semester of college. Not just year, but semester. The finals of the final. And it's art college, so my time is eaten up by projects when I'm not at work. It's a lot of stuff going on. I'm having fun, honestly, but this is what I do to relax when I'm not drawing and it's finally done! It's almost 2000 words (take a few hundred but meh), so I hope you enjoy! I've been wanting to cover this for a while aha

Dib laid on the rooftop, scouring the stars for any abnormalities. He had his equipment set up beside him in an autopilot setting. He breathed in and sighed contently. The sky was completely clear, unlike when he’d intercepted The Tallest’s transmission.

Dib readjusted himself, closing his eyes contently. He should have been inside hours ago. He had class in the morning, but couldn’t bring himself to leave the cool night air. He felt his phone buzz. Dib pulled it out, only barely opening one eye to check the screen. Zim was calling him. He smiled and swiped the screen.

“Hey, Zim.”

“Dib-stink. Zim is surprised you are still conscious.”

Dib chuckled. “Zim, I know you know what ‘sleep’ is and that’s what it’s called. You can just say you thought I’d be asleep.”

“Mmmm. No,” Zim says smugly. Dib rolled his eyes at him, setting the phone on speaker and laying it beside him.

“What’s up?”

“Zim finds himself bored and in need of test running his ship-”

“Your Cruiser?” Dib asks.

“Precisely. Would you like to join?” Zim asks. Dib sat up ramrod straight. He nearly knocked the phone off the roof in his scramble.

“Yes! Hell yes, is that even a question you have to ask?!” Dib heard Zim chuckle on the other end of the line. The sighed. Dib frantically climbed down the house. “How soon can you be here?”

“Zim is in the obnoxiously large backyard of the family down your street. They are gone for the night, Zim believes,” Zim says. Dib pauses and makes his way to his door.

“That’s safe for you to do? It’s only-” Dib checks his phone, “-like, 9 p.m.”

“All the lights in neighboring houses are off. Zim is alone. And in darkness. How long until you are here, Dib-stink?”

“I’m coming,” Dib says. “I can see the house already.”

“Ah, good.”

Dib hears a click and looks to see Zim had hung up. He shook his head, jogging to the fence line. He paused, listening for any signs of the other neighbors being out. He heard silence, a far off dog bark, and then determined he was clear. He hopped the fence, the Voot Cruiser coming into view immediately once he’d cleared the fence. Zim flipped the windshield up. Dib hopped in, settling in a seat to the side. Zim lifted the cruiser, aiming for the nearest bulk of clouds. Dib looked out the side of the Cruiser. The city was quickly becoming nothing more than dots of light on a dark background, with lines making up the streets. This was enthralling in every possible way.

Dib looked over to Zim, who seemed focused, but not as much as Dib would have guessed with a ship that could do such complex maneuvers. He looked at movement above his head to see Zim’s antennae twitching. It was difficult to see how they were moving, the movements were so subtle.

“How’s piloting it?” Dib asks. Zim glances at him.

“Hm? It’s… Zim isn’t sure how to describe it. How would you describe driving?” Zim asks. Dib obened his mouth and closed it again. He repeated the action several times and huffed, looking back out the window.

“I guess… it’s a combination of sensory input and responsive output. Harder than a bike. But same basic principles. It gets harder when you put in stick shifts.”

Zim hummed. “That is not the same, then. Piloting Cruisers requires synchronization with the ship.”

“You sync your brain to it?” Dib asked incredulously. Zim smirked.

“In a way. Zim’s PAK is copied into the Cruiser each time Zim pilots. This can be an issue, as Zim is sure Dib-stink remembers…” Zim teased. Dib flushed, recalling the, ahem, issues he’d had with Tak’s ship once it had woken up.

“Yes, I remember,” he says. He focuses back outside as Zim chuckles. He blinked. He was seeing this right, right? They were in the upper atmosphere. “How far out are we going?”

“As far as Zim feels.”

Dib beamed. This was the best day of his life. Fighting an alien had been great (and the space ship fights being the best), befriending said alien was amazing, but THIS was by far the best. He didn’t have to focus on combat, or worry about finding his way back. He was free to enjoy every second of this trip. Zim tilted the ship, flying past the moon, careful to keep the view on Dib’s side of the ship.

“This is amazing,” he breathes. “I noticed this is a different model than Taks’. Is it an older model?”

“It is a stolen model,” Zim says flatly. Dib glances at him.

“Huh?”

“Zim stole it. …Zim had to get to the Impending Doom II meeting,” Zim explains hastily. “It’s from the planet Zim was banished to.”

Dib started to lose himself laughing. “Oh, my god! You stole your own ship, that’s hilarious!”

“How is that hilarious?” Zim asks.

“I thought you built it!” Dib says, still having trouble holding in his laughter. “You build almost everything you use, I just assumed.”

“Dib-stink, Zim fails to see the humor in this.” Zim admits.

He banked past Mars, curving around it so that Dib could see the northern pole. The white contrasted sharply against the red surface. It swirled around an indistinct center, broken apart by the landscape around it. An entire section looked as if it had been broken off in parts and shoved to the side. Dib pressed his face against the glass eagerly, his eyes lighting up.

“Mars’s ice! Oh, wow. I wonder why it’s spiraling. And that gouge…”

“Canyon.” Zim corrects. Dib glances at him curiously. “It’s a canyon,” Zim repeats.

“Weird. It looks like an art piece,” Dib says with a chuckle.

Zim piloted past the smaller planet to the largest in the entire system. Dib watched as Jupiter slowly came closer to them, the size growing to the point it was nearly taking up his entire view. The surface was a mass of swirls and moving form. Dib could only describe the shapes as oil on water. It was hypnotic to see the shapes slowly moving across the surface of the planet. From the edge he saw a striking red start to come over. The never-ending storm. It tore through the layers of gas and clouds as it moved, breaking up the lines that were loosely formed over the surface. Dib beamed, eliciting a small laugh from the alien next to him.

Next was Saturn, its rings keeping them far from it as opposed to the viewing distance Dib was afforded with the other planets. Dib could make out a few of the moons, particularly the two between rings. The rings themselves weren’t as clear cut as their representations had led Dib to believe. He knew this from when he and Zim had raced through one of the rings, but the sight was still something amazing. And he could enjoy it this time. They cruised over Saturn for a slightly longer time as Zim checked what time it would be back home. Seeming satisfied he turned to Uranus. 

“Zim has a question.”

“What?”

“Why is your species fascinated by this planet’s orbiting rings?” Zim asks. Dib heard the hint of a snide tone in Zim’s question; but ignored it.

“They’re the wrong way.” He explains. “They’re up and down, not side to side.”

“There is a “way” for planets to settle?” Zim asks incredulously. “Where in the universe did you humans get that assumption?”

“Gravity?” Dib tries. Zim laughs, letting the Cruiser coast until he got himself under control. Dib was glaring at him.

“Every mass has gravity, that makes no sense!” Zim explains. Dib shoved him and returned to the window.

“We can only travel space with satellites, we don’t have all the answers! Yet. Besides, we might get better answers than even alien empires. We could improve their technology, maybe.”

“Why does Dib-stink say that?” Zim asks. When Dib gives him a chastising look Zim quickly amends his question. “Zim is genuinely curious. Humans are a very young species.”

“Therefore, we’re imaginative. We McGyver things constantly. I jerry-rigged the garage to work on Tak’s ship. I learned a lot from that. I’m never turning it on again.”

Zim smirked. “You had not expected the uploaded personality, hm?”

“How was I supposed to know it did that?!” Dib asks incredulously. He turned away from the expansive star-scape before him to look at Zim. “Humans are still working on AI, I wasn’t expecting a ship to have the same personality as its old owner. It was just as rude, too.”

“IT was Tak, in a sense.” Zim explains. He looks around the Cruiser, tacking away at the controls before veering off their (mostly) streamlined path. Dib looked forward, a distant shape disappearing into the darkness. He tapped Zim’s shoulder, eliciting a hum. “I saw them. Earth is believed to be marked for Irken conquest. Few aliens would come to it knowing that an Irken is there.”

“So, your banishment is like a shield?” Dib asks, following the ship until it had completely disappeared. “Are Irkens that ruthless to other species?”

“Dib-stink, the Irken Empire is seen as vicious by all. Vicious and superior-”

“Zim, I can tell you right now that calling yourself superior only brings trouble.”

“Zim is saying what others believe.”

“…And you, too,” Dib says. Zim groans, but he can’t deny the accusation. He banks the Cruiser, bringing Dib’s attention away from him and to the planet before them.

Neptune was looming over them, Zim cruising much closer to it than the other planets. Dib was wondering how they hadn’t been pulled in by its gravity. The shades of blue layered over each other, swirling over each other, at one point forming a shape like the Red Eye. Dib remembered learning about it in class—a large storm the size of Earth. Dib was caught in this knowledge, knowing that he was looking up something that matched the size of his entire home planet. The colors were like watching a planet made of an ocean swirling below him. It was calming in a way that he couldn’t entirely explain, as if he were being washed over in the calm waves he imaged could be making up the atmosphere. Zim left too soon—perhaps it would have been too soon no matter how long they stayed, but Dib would always say regardless that it was too soon.

It was going to be several minutes before they hit Pluto. Zim was unsure what to do to fill the silence. He wouldn’t say he was uncomfortable with the silence. He rather preferred it. It allowed him the most flexibility to think as he didn’t have to worry about focusing on sounds. It was a very different environment than his time as an Irken weapons designer. It was peaceful. However, being in silence with Dib was unsettling in a way that Zim wasn’t comfortable with. The human talked too often for it to be normal. Zim could only think of one topic.

“Zim will admit, he has grown attached to this Voot Cruiser. Despite what Tak or any Irken may think.”

“What do you mean?” Dib asks. “This ship is awesome!”

“Zim has streamlined it in recent years. This Cruiser, as Zim explained, is not standard. Zim did steal it. It is a garbage ship, yes. However, Zim has made modifications. Zim found himself with much free time after accepting banishment.”

“So, some of what you were doing in that free time was updating it?”

“Yes. Standard Cruiser technology is PAK compatibility. Zim had to reload his PAK into this Voot Cruiser. Zim added many functions PAKs have. Such as the metal legs. Those are Zim’s favorite.”

Dib laughed. “They are pretty cool.”

Zim smiled, coming up onto the last planet. Dib shifted to the front of the ship, where Pluto was coming up to them. The tiny dwarf planet sat in its orbit, the red southern pole contrasting starkly to the rusty and white upper hemisphere. Zim banked and Dib hooted. A large patch of white in the shape of a heart coming into view. Dib had seen the photos of the heart, but to see it was another thing entirely. The planet was something else. Full of craters, mismatched colors, and irregular shapes. Dib basked in it.

“This is the best day of my life.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been wanting to cover the Voot Cruiser for a LONG time. The PAK is still my favorite tech from the series (God, those spider legs. SO GOOD) but the Cruiser is my second favorite. So, I had fun researching it! It was very, very fun to do.


	21. The Assembly

The ride back was just as whimsical as the ride out to Pluto. Dib was able to see the planets a second time, and Zim had promised to take him Cruising again. They hadn’t picked a time, but as Zim dropped Dib off at his house (literally on his rooftop) Dib was already planning his new schedule to include Cruising trips. It wasn’t until a week later that he felt any sort of dread when he went to school.

Dib was dreading today not because anyone was planning to tease or harass him, not because Gaz was in a bad mood (in fact she was in a suspiciously good mood, which was worrying), and not because class was particularly boring because he had taught himself pre-calc four years ago. No, Dib was dreading the assembly scheduled after lunch. It was all anyone was talking about. Even the teacher didn’t seem to care to teach class. Dib could only imagine how many times this assembly had taken place and teachers zone out for the entirety. He looked over the room at the anticipating faces of his classmates. He would think they were immature for being so excited, but the assembly lasted two class periods. He couldn’t really blame them for not being able to wait. IF it wasn’t also for the subject of the assembly.

Sex-Ed Assembly.

Dib held in a groan. He didn’t understand why the Health teacher couldn’t just teach them this instead of spending much too long on the digestive system. He wanted to put his head in his hands. He didn’t mind the assembly itself, he wanted his classmates to learn something about sex while they still could before they made fools of themselves outside of school. From the escapades of some that he’s overhead, a few of them sorely needed this.

No, he was dreading this because of Zim. Dib knew when he woke up that he wasn’t going to be ready to have to sit through something like this with the alien right there.

\--- -- 

“What is the issue?” Zim asks. He leans over the table, plucking something off Dib’s tray. Dib was looking to the ceiling to keep from having to look Zim in the eyes. “Does this not relate to what you were asking Zim just recently? Well, perhaps not recently for you.”

“It- I guess so but- I- don’t know- why- why? Why do you want to know?” Dib asks, finding it hard to keep his face straight and cool.

Zim looks at him indignantly. “How is this different than what you were asking Zim? Hypocrite.”

“First off, you only just started learning more English and I have a feeling that word was one of them,” Dib starts. Zim smirks; but he doesn’t confirm or deny the claim. “Secondly, Zim, your species doesn’t HAVE sex anymore. You clone yourselves in tubes! This is different just on that alone.” Dib argues, burying his face into his sleeves. He was feeling like he was in an oven. Zim looked at him curiously, leaning over the table again to flick Dib’s hair.

“Zim doesn’t see much a difference with the questioning, Dib-stink.” Zim explains. Dib swatted at Zim’s hand; but only succeeded at flailing his hand uselessly as Zim was too fast for him when he wanted to be. Dib groaned instead. Zim started to become irritated; Dib wasn’t understanding him and Zim felt there was a miscommunication on both ends.

“Can’t you just wait until the assembly like everyone else?” Dib asks, taking Zim out of his thoughts. Zim scoffed at him, resting back into his bench.

“The students haven’t been waiting,” Zim says amusedly. “They’ve been talking about it in every class. Zim has been both interested and disgusted… ad confused. So, Zim would appreciate it if Dib-stink would shed some light into the situation for him.”

“Zim, I REALLY don’t want to have that kind of conversation with you. Again.”

“That was not the same conversation.” Zim points out. He picked at the skin of the orange Dib had grabbed for his lunch. Dib wanted it, but he also couldn’t eat, or he’d be sick. While he didn’t want to attend this assembly, he wasn’t ruining his near-perfect school attendance in his final year when he could still attend.

All too soon the bell rang and Dib looked up to see a smug smirk spreading across Zim’s face. Damn him.

“Time to go, Dib-stink.”

Dib banged his head on the table. Zim had to drag him to the gym for the seminar.

“Alright, settle down, settle down.” The principal spoke into the mic with a tired drone. 

Dib didn’t blame her for being exhausted. Zim sat next to him; both at the very back of the benches, overlooking the entire gym. The benches had been brought out to seat all the students, taking up any and all extra room that was normally available in the gym during PE classes. The principal was standing on the stage on the opposite side of the basketball court.

“All right.” She began again. “I know there’s been rumors that the seminar would be a showing of a pornography, and I’m excited to disappoint you all.”

The room erupted into a mixture of laughter and groans. Zim looked at Dib for an explanation; but Dib shoved a hand in Zim’s face to force his gaze back to the front. “Hell no.”

“Today, we’ll be discussing everything you didn’t cover in Health class and probably everything you did. I don’t care. I don’t have to give it. Mr. Waters does. Mr. Waters?”

The health teacher took the podium. “I’ll be frank, this is mandatory by the city and I don’t want to be the one to give a ‘birds-and-the-bees’ speech. That should be up to your parents. But, I have no choice-”

“Waters.”

“Sorry. We’ll be covering sexual anatomy, activity, reproduction, reproductive health, birth control, safe sex, and contraception. I can not stand hearing one more person ask what a condom is for so, no, we’re not getting out of that one. If there’s one thing I actually agree upon in doing this: I get to set straight what the internet got wrong when you all tried to Google this.”

Dib buried his face in his hands when Zim started to chuckle.

\---- ----

The seminar lasted too long. Far, far too long for Dib’s liking. Mr. Waters had clearly been stewing over the restrictions of their sex-ed course and had left no stone unturned in his recounts of everything sex. And yet, even so, Zim still had something to say.

“Dib-stink, Zim will only keep asking.” Zim says, leaning casually against the couch. Dib had been avoiding answering the entire walk home. Once they’d passed the threshold into Zim’s base he’d flopped onto the couch to hide his blush.

“I wish you wouldn’t.”

“Too bad. Zim is curious: why do humans act so strange about sex? It’s a necessary action for reproduction, is it not?”

“It’s actually not anymore. Surrogacy is a thing. No sex needed. They just combine the eggs and sperm in a lab or something. I said I didn’t want to talk about this.”

“And you pestered Zim before, it is Zim’s turn.” Zim points out. Dib groaned. DAMN HIM.

“FINE. Just a few. Please make them as un-embarrassing as possible.” Dib pleaded. Zim hooted in victory. He fell back into the only free cushion at Dib’s feet. Dib dragged his dangling legs onto the couch to rest them on Zim. The alien didn’t knock them off, using them instead to rest his arms on.

“Zim would like to know why humans seem so obsessed with reproduction.”

“… That’s not what I was expecting,” Dib admits, turning his head to look at ZIm. Zim shrugged. Dib sighed, admitting his defeat in full. “It’s not the reproduction we’re… I’m using this word because you did – “obsessed” with. It’s the action that happens to involve it. Sex feels amazing.”

“Define. And that is not a question, it is a request; therefore, it doesn’t count.”

“Eeuh, “define”,” Dib mockingly repeats. “It’s… the word a lot of people use is euphoric. It’s supposed to be the most amazing thing you can physically feel.”

“… “supposed to be”?” Zim repeats. “You haven’t tried--?”

“GOD, I said DON’T make them embarrass me, Zim!” Dib shouted, dragging his backpack up to cover his face. Zim reached over him, pulling the bundle down. Dib tried to kick at him but Zim held his legs firmly in place. Dib noticed it was with little effort and his face flushed red. He was much weaker compared than Zim had ever let him believe himself to be. It was infuriating.

“Explain why that was embarrassing,” Zim demands. Dib looked at him incredulously, surprised to find the Irken wasn’t smirking at him. 

“Oh, no. You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

“Zim, you can’t be.”

“Zim is always serious.” Zim says, leaning back into the couch.

“That’s a lie,” Dib says. Before Zim could rebuttal Dib shoved the backpack away and ran his hand through his hair as he spoke. “No, I haven’t. I’m still a virgin. Someone who hasn’t had sex.”

“Why is there a need to differentiate?” Zim asks. He tosses the back to the side. It makes a soft thud when it hits the ground. Dib closed his eyes. He was starting to get tired.

“I don’t know, we just do.” Dib admits. “There’s a lot about sex that just… is how different cultures view it. It’s essential for the species, sure, but most people don’t care about that part. They care about the moment of it. How it feels.”

“Why? Couldn’t you get the same sensation from drugs? Your human health class made it abundantly clear that drugs cause a lot of reactions in your brain chemistry.” Zim says. He was waving his hand in a feigned disinterest.

“…Some of them, but it’s not the same. That’s… I guess ‘artificial’ isn’t the word to use… it’s…” Dib trailed off with a realization. “I haven’t done drugs, either. I can’t give an example for it. Damn it. This is harder than I thought it would be. I expected you to ask biology questions, not societal or philosophical ones!” Dib whined. He heard Zim start to laugh.

“That is not Zim’s issue. You agreed to answer Zim’s questions, so answer them. Why are humans so strange about the act of reproduction? All species need it.”

“Liar! Irkens don’t!” Dib shouts, flipping over and sitting up in one fluid motion that caught Zim off guard. He gave a small yelp and had a hand up by the time Dib had sat up. Zim quickly slammed his hand back down to his side. Dib noted his face getting darker. “Are you-”

“ASIDE from Irkens and the act of cloning, that is, all species need to reproduce to survive.” Zim says rapidly. “That is what Zim meant.”

“Ah. Well, yes, aside from that it is essential. Look, society is weird about this sort of thing because of what it means to us. When you have sex with someone, it’s usually because you love them. One-night stands withheld. It’s a very… personal act, I would say.”

“So, humans only engage in it with others they deem worthy?”

“That isn’t how I’d put it,” Dib says evenly, rubbing his temple. “But, sure. We’re picky. Most of the time. There are exceptions, as with everything. Some people aren’t as tight about it. Some humans never want to have sex.”

“Why is that?”

“They have bad experience with it, bad connotations with it, it’s a religious thing, or they’re asexual.”

“…A… sexual?” Zim asks slowly, rolling the term over on his tongue. Dib raised an eyebrow as he saw the gears turning in Zim’s head. He noticed the spots on his PAK blink before Zim gave a confused huff. “Irkens don’t have an equivalent to that word.”

“You don’t…? Oh. It means someone who doesn’t experience sexual attraction. They don’t want it. Aren’t interested in it? I’m not asexual, so I wouldn’t know.”

“Are there other types?”

“There are a lot of types. I can make up a booklet. We treat those weird, too. I personally don’t get it. The stigmas, I mean.” Dib explains. Zim still looked confused and Dib decided to give up for now. “I’ll make a big booklet. As comprehensive as I can manage. I’m too tired for that conversation.”

Zim snorted, reaching for a pillow and smacking Dib’s face with it. Dib dragged it down to his lap and fell back on the couch, wriggling around to get comfortable. “Dib-stink did exhaust himself worrying all day. Quite foolish of you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m taking a nap. Don’t Google anything. You will regret it. We haven’t even covered fetishes yet,” Dib says jokingly. He had just gotten the perfect set up when he heard Zim.

“What is a ‘fetish’?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 3 am here but It's also almost Finals week so who cares!  
> Don’t worry, I’m not continuing this in the next chapter aha. This chapter is something I’ve wanted to touch on ever since I remembered the awkwardness of having to take the Sex Ed portion of High School health class. And how my health classes focused more on the digestive system than literally anything else. Since I set the story within the last year or so I missed my shot since, to my knowledge, most US schools cover it within the Freshman and Sophomore years. SO, f*ck it, an assembly it is lol. This was also a chance for myself to explore some of the topic that most people either don’t care for or gloss over when it comes to societal ideas about the nuances in sex as a topic instead of an action; and as an asexual I focus on those more than the act itself because the act itself holds little to no interest to me. It’s like watching paint dry, it just doesn’t seem fun. Sure, I could find a way to have fun with it, probably, but the interest to expend the effort to do so just isn’t there. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed!


	22. Surgery

Zim sighed, rubbing at his forehead as he poured over a new invention. He was trying his hardest to best the inferior human “alchemists” that Dib had told him about—at length—who couldn’t do something as simple as matter conversion. Yet, turning anything into gold WAS proving to be quite a challenge for the Irken. Much to his dismay. It was entirely his own fault he had made it a personal challenge to discover the secret to this method. He heard the television flick on over an hour ago and had been doing the most he could to ignore the noise. Although, he did concede that his superior hearing was an annoyance rather than an advantage in this situation.

“Traffic on the I-59 is reduced to a crawl due to a crash between three vehicles…”

“Gir, MUST you watch the news of all things? Zim would rather hear one of those disgraceful “reality” shows than hear humans report their own failures.”

“But, Big-Head is on it!” Gir called over his shoulder. He stuffed another handful of peanut butter, effectively making any further communication a mute point. Zim paused, relaying the information he’d picked up before interrupting the announcer and then bolted from his seat. He was beside Gir and watching the screen intently seconds later.

Dib was indeed on the tv; and on a long white stretcher. He was conscious, if his open eyes and grimace were anything to go by, but clearly not all right. Zim had learned by now that being loaded into the loudly annoying vehicles Dib was constantly correcting as ambulances was a bad thing. He spotted Gaz in the back of another ambulance in the other lane. She was being treated by a paramedic, who was simply focused on her head while Gaz watched them take Dib away. Zim couldn’t be sure if he was seeing her expression right given the quality of the screen and the distance, but she looked genuinely worried.

That was a terrifying thought.

Zim watched as the situation fell sickeningly into place for him. Dib had been in an accident. He was on a stretcher and being taken to a hospital. Where they perform surgery…. With much more archaic technology than Zim had available. And he couldn’t retrieve him without arousing a mountain of suspicion. 

‘Shit.’ He thought. Zim clenched his fist. He swallowed a lump in his throat. He hadn’t thought anything—or anyone—could slow Dib down long enough to allow anyone else to strap him down. And yet, Dib HAD been slowed down considerably from this. It was confusing, aggravating, and ZIm hated to admit it; but he was scared for Dib. 

Zim whipped out his communicator and started to dial Gaz. He watched as she shifted when it started to ring and pick up, waving the paramedic away before resorting to threatening a punch to the face. Zim had to admit that he appreciated Gaz’s ‘no beats around the bush’ policy on life.

“Hello?” 

Her voice was surprisingly confused. Zim realized he’d never installed any identifying number into her own communication device. “It’s Zim.”

“What are you calling me for? I’m not in the mood in the biggest way.”

“What hospital is he at?” Zim asked in a quipped tone.

Gaz paused. “What?”

“The hospital they took Dib to! Where is it?” Zim said louder, growing impatient. Gaz groaned and he saw her rub at her head.

“Stop shouting. Headache. It’s the big Memorial one downtown. It was closest. Just go see your boyfriend and leave me to die here. …Oh, don’t give me that look, I’m joking. I’m not dying.”

Zim watched Gaz chew out the paramedic as she spoke to him and almost felt as if he could be watching her from down the road. He let her snide remark slide and hung up. “Gir, watch the house. I’m going… out. For a few hours, at least.”

“Tell Big-Head I said hi!” Gir said, his voice slightly muffled by the peanut butter and he waved as Zim moved towards the door.

Zim’s hand paused on the door handle and he sighed. Gir was more perceptive than he gave the robot credit for. It wasn’t hard to know where Zim was going; yet Gir had missed the hints in the past and so Zim still took note of it. He would almost say the robot had genuine feelings for the human. …Zim conceded the robot might have enough of an AI system for that to be a real possibility and left the base.

His PAK was already calculating the path to the hospital. It was a good hour away if Zim kept up his current pace. In the relatively empty streets he didn’t have to worry about witnesses to his speed. However, Zim was cautious about getting lost in the city again. He’d installed the GPS weeks after THAT incident, so he wouldn’t have a repeat event. It would take him more like an hour and a half because of that. He would have to deal. He thanked Irk that the weather was at least agreeable.

He tried to occupy his thoughts while he traversed the streets. He noticed that the streets were occasionally too busy for the time of day due to the traffic redirection and had to aggravatingly slow his own pace during those times. It was almost excruciating how long it took him to get to the hospital. Once he’d passed through the front doors his entire body reacted and he had lurched back.

Oh, IRK, HE’D FORGOTTEN ABOUT THE GERMS. 

Zim raced to the front of the room towards the receptionists’ desk. The disinfectants were calling to him like a beacon of paradise in a wasteland of decay. He pressed himself against the desk to keep his body as far from the diseases of the room as possible. Every cough or sniffle was another jolt of paranoia down his spine until the receptionist finished her incessant typing and looked up at him.

“Hello, how can I help you?” she asked, her voice trialing off in that way that humans’ voices always trailed off when regarding Zim for the first time. Their curiosity over the green skin bubbling up despite the best of themselves. 

“Patient visitation. Dib Membrane. He was in a car accident.” Zim explained; short, sweet, and to the point. The faster he got this handled the faster he got out of this death trap of a room and into Dib’s own sterilized heaven-scape.

The receptionist tacked away at her computer. “And you’re name?”

“Zim. Vasquez. School friend.” Zim said, trying to subvert any additional questioning. He tapped his foot impatiently until the receptionist finally finished her search.

“Ah, here he is. He’s still in surgery, but there is a waiting area down the hall. He’ll be in room 42B when he’s done. I’ll let a nurse know you’re here so they can get you to him once he’s set up.”

“…Thanks.” Zim said—more out of polite manners than any actual thanks. He was far more concerned about Dib’s condition than where he was. Zim had started to leave when he stopped half way around the desk. “What is his condition?”

“I can’t discuss that, technically. He’s not in danger of dying. That’s all I’ll say. And that his surgery might take the betterment of an hour or so. There are magazines.” She offers sheepishly. Zim grimaced. She knew he’d come unprepared for the long wait. He wondered how many people did that daily. 

Zim found the waiting room easily. It was the only large space that wasn’t cut off by doors and was populated by chairs along the wall and in rows. The receptionist was true to her word about the magazines: they lined every table. Old issues that were months overdue for a replacement. Zim scanned the room and noted a few things. First, that there were other types of books that looked to be children’s materials set alongside equally simple games. Second, that the room was practically devoid of anyone. Thirdly, that down another hall was a small café, of all things. Zim also noted that Dib’s father had yet to arrive; if he would.

Zim wasn’t sure how Dib’s father would be notified. Perhaps Gaz would contact him. If Dr. Membrane showed up Zim would be surprised. Dib had explained humans avoid spaces that make them uncomfortable or that bring up bad memories. He’d mentioned that his mother passed away in a hospital; and Zim’s spine chilled at the connotation that brought forwards to him. He physically shook that thought from his mind. He wondered what he’d do to cheer the human up once he’d woken up from the drugs. He’d be feeling like shit. Zim hummed and looked over the magazine covers from his seat. One was specific to medical advancements and Zim picked it up instantly. 

Not to his own surprise, the humans were still in juvenile stages in terms of their own medicine and technology. That said, he was shocked they’d already made something resembling a bionic eye. They could destroy their own planet and not bat an eye, but a small advancement such as that and they lost their minds over ‘cyborg’ conspiracies. Zim chuckled and reached back to drop the magazine into his PAK. Dib would enjoy reading that article.

Zim spent most of his time flipping lazily through articles. He’d tear out an odd page or pocket an entire magazine if he found something else Dib might enjoy. It wasn’t until almost forty minutes had passed that his covered antennae picked up a muffled voice mutter Dib’s name. He was out of the OR? That was a good sign, it hadn’t taken too long. Zim moved towards the doors that led down to the patient rooms. He poked his head through and jumped when he saw a nurse’s station down the hall. He hadn’t thought the hallway was going to be so devoid as to provide no cover at all. A nurse looked up and smiled.

“Hi! You can come on in; just be quiet.”

Zim awkwardly made his way to the desk. “Um. I’m looking for Dib Membrane. Room 42B?”

“Oh! Yes, the front desk had called about that. He’s down the hall to the left. Just look at the door markers and you’ll find it.”

Zim nodded curtly and walked quickly down the hall. He found the room in moments. He was infinitely grateful that he wasn’t going to be hassled for his identification. When he entered Dib’s room a few things hit him just as they had in the waiting room. First, that Dib was unconscious and inanimate in a way that so highly contrasted his usual energy that Zim had to do a double take to be sure he was breathing. Second, the intense smells of antiseptics, painkillers, and whatever else they’d globbed onto him. Thirdly, that Dib’s arm and opposite leg were both in pins and rods. They hadn’t cast them yet. How barbaric.

As Zim got nearer he could see that Dib had an IV in his uninjured arm. Zim almost growled. It was pathetic! How humans were still relying on needles was beyond Zim. PAKs were used to administer fluids—if they were needed—so needles had become obsolete generations ago on Irk. He looked over the boy.

He was in the ridiculous hospital gown with his clothes no where in sight. He’d be unhappy about that. Zim took a mental note to grab a spare pare of his clothes from his house before he had to leave in… that. 

Zim sat down beside Dib’s bed in the only chair in the room. The window had a small bench, but it was too far for Zim to be comfortable with. At the least, it was comfortable. Zim looked him over once more, focused on how Dib had never looked so broken before. Zim had been careful to keep from breaking bones when they’d fought. He’d been careful not to harm Dib so much he had to miss school. Zim never would have heard the end of it. And this was so out of place for the Irken. Dib would be furious if he knew how different he looked. Zim was just finishing that thought when Dib groaned.

“Ow. …Zim?”

Zim sat up straighter. Dib was looking… in his general direction. Ah. His glasses. Zim spotted them on the bedside table and set them on Dib’s face for the boy. “Better?”

“Loads. What are you doing here? That was fast.”

“You’re aware where you are? Zim thought humans were disoriented from surgery.”

“I didn’t have brain surgery,” Dib chided him. Zim huffed in annoyance at him, blowing a lock of his wig out of his face. “The painkillers are making me feel weird. Where’s Gaz?”

“Fine. She could walk. They let her go, I imagine. If she didn’t try to fight the paramedics.”

Dib laughed, immediately regretting it and wincing. Zim felt his antennae lower a little as he watched. He readjusted in his seat. He looked awkwardly at the table he’d grabbed the glasses from to see he’d accidentally left claw marks in his haste. He hummed and looked away again. Dib did a check of the room.

“Where’s Dad? His lab?”

Zim pursed his lips at the already expectant tone in Dib’s voice that he knew the answer. Zim nodded mutely, not sure if Dr. Membrane would come at all until Dib needed brought home. And if Zim offered to take him, Dr. Membrane wouldn’t come to the hospital at all. Dib sighed and sank down in his bed, crestfallen. He make a ‘tsk’ noise.

“I figured. Well, he would have just left when you showed up, anyway.”

The sad fact of that had Zim looking away from Dib yet again. He couldn’t seem to keep eye contact with him. Was it… bad that Zim had come instead of Dib’s father? No, he surmised, it was good he’d come. It was bad on Dib’s father’s part that he hadn’t. 

“He’ll be fawning over me for a few solid days when I get home, though. It’s okay.”

Zim perked up at this. “He will be?”

“Definitely. He can work from home, he just prefers his lab. I won’t be able to shake him. Or Gaz. In her own way. She’ll be skittish and check in on me because she’d rather get shot than admit she was worried. I like that about her, to an extent.”

“As does Zim.”

“Hmm.”

The silence was tangible as they sat—well, Dib laid—in the room. Dib heard a small noise from Zim. A small clicking noise and an angry hiss. Wait, angry? Dib regarded the Irken cautiously. He couldn’t seriously be angry at Dib for getting hit by that idiot on the highway, could he? Zim’s eyes were narrowed down to slits and his breathing was steady; but it was clearly the breathing rhythm of someone who was furious.

“Zim?”

“Who had hit you?”

Dib chuckled. “No, you’re not gonna kill anyone.”

“…Could’ve humored me a little.” Zim mumbled. Dib chuckled again, not daring to laugh any harder than that. He sighed contently. 

“Thanks for coming. I feel like shit.” Dib began. Before he could go into what Zim was sure would have been a sap-filled speech his PAK was dumping the magazines on Dib’s cot. “What’s this?”

“Magazines and articles Zim thought you might enjoy. Some mention conspiracies,” Zim added as an afterthought. He watched Dib’s face light up as he rummaged through the pile with his good arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I completely intended that little nod with Zim’s faked last name~! And yes, some hospitals have little café’s. They’re probably not as close to the waiting areas as this one is (just down the hall before the restrooms); but the hospital in my Capitol city has a café just past the waiting area for those poor folks who are going to be a long while. I always thought it was a nice touch. If hard to find something to eat when you can’t have wheat and don’t drink coffee, anyway. ANYWHO, this turned into a two-parter (maybe more, we’ll see) when I realized it was WAY too long after finishing the first part so far lmao. Just under 2,800 words. a bit more than what I usually aim for. Also, this took so long because I'm currently job searching in my chosen field and I've been caught up in that. I haven't edited this one yet because I wrote it in one sitting last night at 2 am so enjoy!


	23. Resilient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was away at vacation and doing other work most of the time between chapters, and wrote most of this today, so hopefully it's coherent and you enjoy!

Dib waited patiently while the nurses did their last cursory check of his vitals and got him prepped to leave. He’d declined the wheelchair—he could walk, he had more control of his body than that—and opted for the crutch instead. Zim had given the device a displeased and grimaced look when they’d brought it in. Dib had no doubt that Zim thought of it was an archaic form of getting around on a broken limb based on what Zim had told him of Irken body enhancements. 

“Do you need anything else, dear?”

“No, I’m fine, thanks. My friend will take me home.”

The nurse nodded and bounced out of the room. Zim watched her go and blinked in confusion. “She’s so… spritely for a nurse… compared to the others.”

“She’s an optimist. Anyway, I’m ready to go home. I’m exhausted and I want something other than the pudding here.” Dib says, scooting himself off the edge of the bed.

He was still in his hospital gown, his clothes sitting on the table next to the bed. Zim had brought them over the very next day after his first visit; despite the doctors having made it clear Dib wasn’t leaving for another two nights. Gaz had come by with his laptop that same day and to Dib’s surprise had stayed for a few hours. He was sure she was concerned, masking it in her snide remarks about the man who had hit them, not leaving until after the doctor had given Dib an update on his condition. Zim had come each day and stayed the entire time. He had practically lived there during visiting hours. Dib had to plead for him not to sneak back in through the window past the visitation hours or they’d both be in trouble. Zim hadn’t complained about that. Much. His contacts had started to irritate him after the visitation hours ended; and he’d been grateful to get home and been able to remove his disguise.

Dib tossed the gown into the chair Zim had been sitting in. The Irken had stood up and moved over to Dib’s clothes, handing him his shirt first. Dib grimaced at the thought of raising his broken arm and motioned for the jacket instead. Zim paused for a moment before switching the garments out. Dib draped it over his shoulders, clasping it at the nape with the button he rarely used. A pair of shorts came next and then his shoes. Zim stuffed the shirt into his PAK. He looked Dib over and smirked.

“You look silly with just the jacket,” he says with a chuckle. Dib sticks his tongue out at him.

“I don’t really care. I just real food and a warm bed.”

“Well, Zim will take Dib-stink home. Zim will even ride in… a taxi.” Zim said, the name of the vehicle coming out in a disgusted hiss. Dib snorted at his obvious disdain for the transportation.

“What? Too germy for a mighty Irken invader?” Dib teased. Zim grumbled, fighting down a shudder.

“Humans leave no place clean. EUGH they smell of gum and snot and beer. And Zim does not want to know what other activities have taken place in the back of those… things.”

“Oh stop. You can keep my shirt over your mouth if you’re that paranoid about it. You’ll look weird… er, but it might help. It helps most people.” Dib explains, hobbling to the door and already down the hall by the time Zim had caught up to him.   
Even with his mobility hindered so greatly Dib surprised Zim by his speed. He either really did want a good meal and out of the hospital, or he was taking this as a challenge to see if he could keep pace with his usual long-gated walk. Zim wouldn’t be surprised with either motivation.

Once they’d gotten out to the lot and Dib flagged down a taxi Zim was already wrapping the shirt around his face. It did good to ventilate the air for him; as well as keep his embarrassed flushed face hidden from any prying eyes. Dib piled into the taxi, with some difficulty due to his stuck out and cast leg, and Zim followed close behind.

“I’ll pay,” Dib offered. Zim nodded, turning towards the driver.

“16 West Parker St. In the suburbs to the North. It’s a cul-de-sac.”

Dib blinked at him in surprise. “Your house?”

“Zim wants you to come over. I’m not satisfied with the hospital’s assessment and want to make one myself.” Zim explains coolly. Dib eyes the alien suspiciously. He shut the window between them and the driver, not intent on having this conversation overheard by the stranger while they were driven to Zim’s base.

“Zim, you’re not gonna hook me up to one of your weird machines, are you?” he asks. Zim looks at him with an expression that was both shocked and offended.

“Zim is offended Dib-stink would jump to that conclusion. Zim doesn’t need a machine to perform an assessment.”

Dib looked out the window, watching the neighborhood race by. He trusted Zim. He didn’t know if he trusted Zim’s knowledge on human biology. The drive was primarily Dib looking out the window trying to keep conscious until they had arrived at Zim’s base. Dib focused on trying to get into the base without help. It was easier than he’d thought to go up the step with a crutch. He was grateful Zim had installed the elevator instead of a staircase. When they reached the operating room Zim sat him down at an operating table, kicking a chair into place. Dib rested his injured arm on the cool metal. Zim started to rummage through his drawers. He was laying random tools out onto the desk, shoving some to the side and placing others onto the operation table. Dib squirmed in his seat, looking over the sharp objects. Zim placed a large needle on the operating table, shaking a vial of liquid before filling the needle with it.

“Arm.”

Dib held it out, somewhat reluctantly. Zim looked intently at his arm before slowly injecting the liquid into Dib’s vein at his elbow. The liquid was cool, flowing into his body with little resistance past the prick of the needle. He was still mulling over the fact that it was painless when his arm went completely numb. He was marveling over the fact, perhaps ignoring that he should be concerned about it, as Zim started in on his cast with a bandsaw. Dib had to turn away, the flakes of the cast flying up into his face and onto the table. Zim haphazardly tossed the cast to the floor. He was more focused on the inspection in front of him.

“You couldn’t have done an x-ray?” Dib asked. Zim raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Not good enough.”

Dib blanched, laughing as Zim started to do something to his arm. He wasn’t looking down, focused on trying to see if Zim’s blank expression was because he was focused or if he was playing a joke. “Why isn’t that good enough?”

“Zim would rather look at the arm himself. Monitors are walls to Zim’s superior eyesight and analysis,” Zim explained, laying a tool to the side. 

Dib gave him a very sarcastic ‘uh huh’. He glanced at the tool and saw blood. Dib froze up, his eye trailing over to his arm. Zim was looking inside an incision he’d made up Dib’s arm, looking at the bone using tools Dib would equate to what one would to dissect small animals. He moved less than a centimeter to get his arm away from the tools and Zim held his arm down with one hand. Dib pulled, moving nowhere regardless how hard he tugged at his arm. He felt an odd sense of frustration and fear starting to boil up inside of him. Zim’s strength had been demonstrated to him before, but not so forcibly against him.

“Zim.”

“Zim is focusing.”

“Zim is scaring me.”

Dib watched Zim smirk and chuckle. He took his tools from Dib’s arm; but didn’t release it. He grabbed a syringe and shot a strange gelatinous substance into his arm. He switched it out for a handheld device that he ran along Dib’s arm, closing the incision enough that all Zim had to do was wrap it with some gauze. Zim did just that, holding Dib’s arm up instead of against the table, the force with which he was resisting Dib’s tugging not changing by even a minute amount. When he was done he finally released Dib, who immediately inspected his own arm. No pain or discomfort.

“What was all that?” he asked, squeezing his arm at the gauze, and still feeling nothing past a heavy soreness in his bone. Zim had begun cleaning his tools, refilling the needle and syringe, and realigning them to his left.

“Irken medical science. Far advanced to human medicine. Zim would like to do the same to Dib’s leg. Those doctors only put a glorified bandage over your bones. That would have taken months to heal. Zim is disgusted.” Zim said, tapping on the table for Dib to sit on it. Dib obliged, hauling himself up with his newfound dual arm strength. He lifted his injured leg gingerly onto the table and laid down as Zim did his work.

“Have you had to do this to yourself before? Without the PAK taking over?” Dib asked, the imagery flashing through his memory for a moment. He looked to the light, drowning it out with the bright light.

“Zim has. Though, rarely because of anything you did.”

“Is that a compliment or an insult?” Dib asked jokingly.

“A fact,” Zim said flatly. 

Dib furrowed his brow. He hadn’t thought Zim would have completely lost the art of banter when he was focused so heavily on something. Or perhaps it was just what he was focusing on that was taking all his attention. He must have dozed off because Zim was shaking his shoulder next and snapping his fingers. Dib first focused on his antennae, slanted in a worried position, then on Zim’s own face. He sat up, patting on Zim’s shoulder.

“I’m fine, just tired.” He said, rubbing at his eyes. He looked around to see that Zim had already cleaned up the room. He helped Dib off the table, guiding him out of the room. “Where we going now? What time is it?”

“It isn’t late. Zim had prepared for nights you’d stay up late and would not go home,” Zim began, taking Dib into the elevator, stopping just below the ground floor of the base. 

The doors slid open and Dib was greeted by a room that looked like it was based off his own room except for the bunk bed built into the wall. The wall hadn’t been hollowed out to fit a frame, but instead had been hollowed in to separate spots one atop the other as the bed space. Zim had already put in blankets, pillows, and sheets. Scattered around the room were video games, movies, board games, books, and figurines that Dib could mess with if he hadn’t wanted to sleep just yet. As much as he wanted to check the collection of games or movies, he was far more interested in the bed.

Dib sighed in relief and gratitude, stumbling over to the bunk bed and stealing the top bunk, tall enough to hop inside without use of the ladder steps built over one end of the bottom bunk. Zim watched him snuggle into the pillow with a content sigh. He heard Zim slip into the bunk below him, likely laying on his stomach. A few moments passed before he heard Zim tacking away at a screen.

“Zim?”

“Hm?”

“How resilient are Irkens?” Dib asked sleepily.

Zim paused for a brief moment before continuing whatever work he was doing. “Explain.”

“Like. How much damage can you take before you get seriously injured from a brawl? Would the car crash have taken you down like it did me?”

“Ah. Not necessarily. Irkens have modified out bodies, as Zim believes he’s mentioned before. Zim recalls a few times even on his short stay here on Earth a loss of an eye from the socket. They typically pop back into place, however-”

“You’ve lost an EYE from the SOCKET?!” Dib asked in disgust. Zim seemed completely unperturbed by the fact.

“Yes.” He said matter-of-factly. “Death is also a subject we don’t focus too heavily upon.”

Dib felt a sense of unease that that fact. “Why’s that?”

Zim looked up from the tablet-like device he’d procured from his PAK. He set it aside to focus on the conversation more. “Zim does suppose he’d never told Dib-stink of this. Gir had actually forced Zim’s PAK to reset Zim with a power amplifier that he’d hooked into his stupid AI system. That is why Zim awoke after that incessant human’s assault.”

“Wait… you actually died?” Dib asked, leaning hastily over the edge of the bed. Zim looked up at him, his antennae twitching in confusion.

“In a sense of the term. Can Zim assume that is not the case for humans?”

“No! More often than not we just die!” Dib exclaimed.

“Ah.” Zim said. He set his hand over his mouth, pondering the information. “So… if Dib-stink were to be injured enough… Dib-stink would die? Permanently?”

“Assuming they can’t revive me, yes, I would die. Permanently. Irkens don’t have to worry about that?”

“No. Irkens die from PAK removal, dismemberment—occasionally, or of old age. Those are, as far as Zim knows, the three primary ways.” Zim explains. Dib sighed heavily, burying his head in his pillow.

“Well,” he says, rolling over, “At least I don’t have to worry about you leaving me before I die.”

Zim listened to his breathing, following Dib’s pattern as he fell asleep on the bed, far less confident in the new information.


	24. Cruise Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to get this chapter up; I've been job hunting pretty aggressively recently. Regardless! Hope you enjoy this chapter and see you all in the next one!

Dib laid on the platform that had held Zim’s Voot Cruiser. It was set to the side of the room to allow Dib to stargaze and enjoy the night air. Zim had joined him after a few minutes, curious as to what was so appealing about laying down under the stars. Dib glanced over at him. The Irken was sprawled out like a star, staring up at the sky calmly. It was a rare occurrence, though admittedly it was one that was becoming less rare, to see Zim when he wasn’t energetically shouting or running around. Dib hadn’t noticed right away that the Irken was starting to mellow out. He wondered, idly, if that was because he wasn’t chasing after a mission anymore.

He shifted his arm and leg lightly. They had started to become incredibly sore after the anesthesia Zim had injected wore off.

“It is because your body is healing rapidly.” Zim had explained. Dib had been, admittedly it was a little cartoonish, rolling on the floor groaning.

That had been a few hours ago. While his arm and leg had stopped being quite so sore, it still flared up when he stretched or moved. It wasn’t as harsh, but it was still making him very aware of its presence. He looked back up to the sky, tracing the constellations with his eyes. After a while he heard Zim sigh.

“Zim will admit this is a relaxing activity. But, would Dib-stink not prefer something more?” Zim asked.

“Like?”

“A trip.” Zim offered. Dib looked over at him, puzzled.

“To where? Get ice cream?” Dib asked. Zim laughed at him. He sat up, motioning to the Voot Cruiser.

“No, to the sky.”

Dib started at him for the entirety of half a second before he was vaulting himself up and towards the Cruiser. His leg hurt; but he couldn’t have cared less—he had a space ship to hop into. Zim was chuckling at his enthusiasm as he trailed behind him. Dib was scrambling inside and bouncing in his seat before Zim had even grabbed the side of the hull.

Zim closed the window, booting the Cruiser up and hovering it over to the opening before lifting it out and into the sky. He raised the Cruiser straight up until he was sure they were high enough that no one would be able to make them out. He coasted over the town, moving towards the amassment of lights that made up the city. Dib was pressed against the glass, looking over the town.

“I’ve never seen it with a birds’ eye view before. Dad never takes us on vacation, so I’ve never been in a plane to see it,” Dib was explaining. He coo-ed once they passed the park and he saw the sprawling nature below them.

Once they’d started to enter the city space even Zim had to admit it reminded him of the odd and specific beauty of Irken cities. The lights and the shapes and metal and glass reflections were their own brand of beauty that Zim couldn’t quite explain. He doubted that Dib could, either.

“This is awesome.”

“Zim thought you might like it.”

Dib scoured his eyes over the city, taking in every detail. He flipped to the opposite side of the Cruiser as they passed the bridge. Zim was content to fly him over the city, banking and turning to get every inch into his line of sight. Eventually Dib sat back as they started to enter the country side, where the darkness of the night meant he couldn’t see much.

“Hey…”

“Hm?”

“Can we, um… see planets again?” Dib asked. Zim smirked.

“Does Dib wish to see the ones he had not been able to before?”

“Mercury and Venus,” Dib confirmed eagerly. 

Zim pulled up, flying through the atmosphere. “Computer. Set a course for Venus.”

Dib watched as the on-board navigation calculated their course. Zim banked to the side, drawing them up in line with the trajectory. The atmosphere faded away to the expanse of stars. Dib was content to look out at the unfiltered universe when he caught Venus in his peripheral. 

The smaller planet was oddly rust colored over its landscape. Dib made a note of mentioning the trend of reds to his father before dismissing it. He’d be safer telling Gaz. If she’d care. Dib couldn’t imagine she wouldn’t want to come with him in the Cruiser one day. If Zim would allow it. Dib would have to ask him later. Meanwhile, he looked out over the planet’s surface. He spotted something curiously white on the south cap and started to laugh. Zim looked at him curiously as they passed by.

“What?”

“Venus has ice! It has a polar ice cap in its south!” Dib explained. Zim failed to see how that was amusing, but left Dib to it. Mercury was coming up next to them within the hour. Dib tore his eyes away from Venus and looked back forward to the last planet. It was difficult to see it with the sun so close in view. Zim flipped a switch, a darker layer of the Cruiser’s glass sliding down over the clear pane. It blocked out the sunlight effectively. Dib turned his attention back to the planet. It was… grey? That couldn’t be right. Every image he’d seen of the planet was colored.

“Why is it grey?”

“What do you mean?”

“Mercury. It’s grey. It’s supposed to be red, isn’t it?”

Zim laughed. He set the ship to float in the empty space and slipped beside Dib to look over the planet. Dib watched him, not noticing any difference in the Irken as he observed the planet. He didn’t pull out any devices or squint in his eyes. Dib did notice something shift in Zim’s eyes. He couldn’t decide what it was. It was as if something within the gelatinous make up moved or adjusted and suddenly Zim was nodding.

“Zim sees the issue.” He said, taking up his spot in the pilot’s seat again. “Dib-stink, humans cannot naturally see in infrared, no?”

“No…”

“That is your issue. The planet is red when seen with infrared vision.” Zim explained.

“Oh. Wait, how did you know that?” Dib asked, forgoing the planet for now. It wasn’t going to move.

“Irken eyes. I can switch vision modes. It’s like pulling on a small muscle and Zim’s vision will shift. The planet is red in infrared, as Dib mentioned it. Humans must have been using images of that nature to see the planet. Zim suspects that is why Dib would assume it was red.”

“Well, yeah. That’s cool! You can just shift vision modes… that’s interesting. Is it like switching modes on a camera?”

“It is… similar, Zim would say.” Zim explained. “If one could switch the modes with their own brain and muscle structure rather than use of their digits.”

“That’s one way to put it.”

\--- ---

The Voot Cruiser skirted the outer atmosphere of Earth. Zim was scanning the horizon for the right continent. Zim wondered if they looked like a shooting star to the humans below them. He watched the ocean give way to beach, then fields, valleys, forests, cities and towns scattered within the landscapes, and finally their own home coming in from the horizon. The Voot slowed down considerably. Zim had kept them out for almost an entire day. It was unintentional, he’d planned to bring Dib home hours before. When they’d neared the planet, however, Zim had slowed so Dib could look at the moon as it orbited the planet. He’d fallen asleep in the Cruiser when they hit the atmosphere.

He hovered over his base for only a moment until the top opened and he could lower them into the hatch. It slid closed above them, a dull thrum accompanying it. Zim unlocked the front, the glass sliding away. He looked idly at Dib, who was still unconscious. Zim perked his antennae. He couldn’t hear Gir. Either the robot was out at a rave or he was under the ground level of the base. Zim didn’t particularly care if it meant silence.

His metal limbs slid out of his PAK, hoisting him up and out of the Cruiser. He lowered himself down into the cabin of the Cruiser, scooping Dib up in his arms. As he carried him down to the living room Zim was surprised to find how light Dib was. He knew the boy wasn’t very muscular, compared to the football jocks, but he’d expected a little more weight with how Dib had grown over the years fighting with him. Zim made a mental note to get Dib on a work out routine. He will not have his only friend—who wasn’t a robot—getting mugged when he was alone because of his small frame. Zim laid him on the couch. He could be sleeping until the sun rose, for all the Irken knew.

Zim thought for a moment in the silence before his PAK produced a small hand held device he was sure Dib would just call a ‘tablet’; regardless that it was the Irken equivalent. This outing was something to document. He could occupy his time until Dib woke up this way.

He was almost finished when he heard something break and Gir’s loud screech from the lab. Zim’s antennae fell limp as he sighed.


	25. Socialization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOO BOY LADS THIS A LONG ONE. Ok, so I got a little inspired this time; this one came out over 3.000 words so almost 1K to 1.5K longer than the usual chapter. I’ve wanted to play with how Zim would do in this situation for a while, so I hope you enjoy!

The sun was hot, too hot for the time of year and for Zim’s liking, and Zim tapped his foot on the concrete in aggravation. He was watching the busses cart away with masses of students in them. They were packed inside like sardines. Zim would never understand how humans could withstand such a small space packed together as they were; and especially in this heat. The only thing worse that he could think of was the train. He shuddered, thinking of the number of germs that he would inevitably be swimming in if he ever ventured into one. He started pacing, needing some sort of distraction as he waited. Dib was taking much longer than usual. Zim wondered if perhaps Chunk and company had finally decided to test Zim’s patience again and were cornering the boy. Zim was ready to enter the school again when he caught sight of Dib rounding the corner, unharmed and speed walking toward him.

Zim crossed his arms in disapproval when Dib neared him. “You are quite late.”

“Sorry. Gretchen stopped me in the hall. She invited me to a party.” Dib explained, jumping off the stairs and clearing them to the pavement. Zim sauntered down them, arms still crossed, into the heat.

“A party?”

“Yeah. She said it was being held tomorrow into Saturday at a house on Spressor street. It’s supposed to be the whole school, she had to really twists his arm to get him to agree to that, I mean I guess I can see why she’d have to do that—”

Zim rolled his eyes as Dib fell into his blabbering. He found it only slightly endearing, in that it showed how enthusiastic Dib was about something. Zim would be lying, however, if he said he wasn’t grateful it didn’t consist almost solely of questions aimed at him. He thanked Irk that Dib had seemed to be more passive in that regard; and he wondered idly if the boy was out of questions. He doubted it, though he had been enjoying the rest from questions for the time being. He was spacing out when Dib took a breath to start again and Zim took the chance to break into the conversation.

“Dib-stink, why are you telling Zim this?”

Dib blinked and looked at Zim. “Oh. Because I’m her plus one and I was wondering if you’d be my plus one, so we could both go. I assumed you hadn’t been invited yet.”

“… Zim had not.” Zim admitted. He hadn’t even been aware of a party commencing that weekend. He vaguely remembered students discussing it earlier that week, but he’d tuned them out as he’d designed a new invention during the lecture. The chemistry class was so remedial it was numbing. All the science courses were—Zim had discovered years prior that if he’d had to attend college, he’d find some fun advancing the species’ space travel with the little effort it would require of him. He put that thought on hold and turned back to Dib. “Zim likely wouldn’t have been. Does that not mean that they do not want Zim to attend?”

“I mean… I didn’t expect to be invited. And we’re friends, so I assume Gretchen knows that if she invited me I’d invite you. That’s how the whole invite system has been working. I know the club will be there.” Dib explained. He stopped them at a crosswalk as a car blew the stop sign. Dib sighed after them, double checking the street before allowing them to cross as Zim pondered the information.

“Zim is unsure if he would enjoy this…. Party.”

“Why?”

“Gir enjoys the blasted things. Zim can not hear him over the music and he cannot hear Zim. It is infuriating.” Zim explains, rubbing at his temples. The music played at Gir’s parties was so loud it was a wonder it never blew out Zim’s speakers at the base.

“It’s not a rave. It’s a high school party. Just teens getting drunk and having fun. I’ve never been to one and I want to go. It’s our senior year. You don’t want to at least see one? You’d learn something about human culture. More than if you just spied on it from your base. Or a tree.” Dib added with a smirk laden on his face. Zim resisted the urge to push the cocky human.

Zim hummed. Dib had a point in that regard. He’d learn something new about humans that was a distinction from the raves that Gir frequented. He wondered how different it would be. He didn’t know much about the raves—he would have to ask Gir about them—but, Dib was saying they weren’t the same. Zim wondered how different types of parties could be. He recalled the celebrations on Irk after a particularly coveted conquest. He pushed the memories away and focused back on Dib, who was still waiting on his answer. He sighed.

“Fine, Zim will attend. For a short time.”

“Great!” Dib exclaimed. He pulled out a piece of paper and handed it over. “This is the address Gretchen gave me. It starts at eight. I’ll meet you there. I have to get groceries today before getting ready.”

Zim hummed again, turning down his own street as Dib diverged to his.

\---- ----

Zim waded through the amassed sea of classmates. All of which were either drinking, high, hollering, or getting there in some combination of the three. The music could have been heard down the block by a human, and it was heard three blocks away by Zim as he approached the house. He hadn’t recognized the house; but had vaguely recognized the last name. Chunk’s parental units must have been away for him to be able to throw one of these… Zim was generous to call it a ‘gathering’. The music was as endless as the voices. It was an amount of stimulation that Zim did not prefer and wanted to end. It was beginning to hurt his antennae, forcing him to lower them against his scalp. It had helped, for a while. He was finding himself looking for an out before rationalizing that leaving the party within the first half hour was, perhaps, too soon. He’d started to be only slightly thankful that he’d managed to gain some insight to these gatherings via Gir’s own tales and the TV. While it wasn’t exactly the rave that Gir would frequent it did have a semblance of a DJ system and a mountain’s worth of teens to swim through. Zim knew he’d hate the proximity to his peers sweating bodies and had prepared for it; but that didn’t make his disgust of it any less. He had concluded that Dib was right in one respect: the party was not as wild and unkempt as a rave seemed to be.

He’d arrived late, a good hour or two into the party, meaning it was effectively in full swing by his arrival. To his surprise several teens were already passed out on furniture. One was being mocked by his friends, the group taking markers to his skin. Zim’s skin crawled at the idea of the inferior ink touching his own. He was hesitant to get an Irken tattoo, let alone use something akin to a marker. He’d known from Gir that staying at least an hour was considered ‘normal’. He planned to find somewhere quiet soon to wait out the rest of his sentence if he couldn’t find Dib. If he could, he hoped Dib would have had the same thought and would already be in the recesses of the house. To his dismay he spotted the tall teen in the kitchen—not nearly far enough away from the rest of the party to do much good to Zim’s pained hearing.

He was talking to the ones Zim had coined his ‘like’ peers. A small group of boys who happened to share Dib’s interests—and despite that fact had still never believed Zim was anything but a human kid with a skin condition and an odd personality. Dib glanced up, having spotting Zim from his peripheral, and waved him over. Zim noted at least one of the boys seemed excited that he was there. Odd.

Zim pushed through the crowd, weaving effortlessly until he reached the group. “There you are.”

“Sorry, I came about fifteen minutes in. I forgot to set a meeting time, so I just figured I’d see you here,” Dib explained. Zim didn’t have time to retort on that before Dib was pulling him into a side-armed hug and presenting him to the troupe.

“Zim, this is Daren, Eric, and Abed. They’re in the Investigators Club with me!” Dib said, pointing out each human as he named them.

“The one you’re President of?” Zim asked. He knew the question was true; but felt like humoring the group regardless. Dib nodded enthusiastically.

“And Abed is VP.”

“I see. …Hello.”

The trio of teens greeted him cordially, in a way that Zim wasn’t sure if they were going to turn malicious like the rest of their peers. Dib’s demeanor and low heart rate around their presence told him that wouldn’t be the case. He decided to trust Dib’s instincts, gently shoving him off. As he did so Dib was already talking again.

“Gretchen invited the whole club. I think we’re the only four who showed up, though. Eric said something about paranoia?”

“They’re afraid they’d get tar and feathered, or something like in the movies,” Eric explained with a waving hand. Zim looked at Dib in slight confusion.

“I’ll show you what that means later. The literal and comical.”

“There’s a distinction?” Zim asked incredulously.

“There is a big distinction, yes.”

“He doesn’t watch movies?” Eric asked. Dib was quicker than Zim to come up with the excuse; something that had Zim suspicious he’d been preparing for such questions for some time now.

“He was home schooled, and they didn’t have a TV, so he’s missed out on a lot of media. I’m getting him caught up.” Dib said pridefully. Zim felt an antennae twitch. Mostly because it was only half of a lie. Their movie nights were incredibly packed still, much to Zim’s shock, and he’d only ever assumed the massive DVD collection in Dib’s living room had been the whole households’. How wrong he had been.

“Mostly sci-fi horror, though, right?” Abed teased. Dib flushed, coughing into his hand.

“Not… entirely.” He said. “He liked Alien.”

Zim’s eye twitched, only so minutely, at the obvious joke Dib was hiding in that last statement. He allowed himself a smirk. But it only stayed until Daren piped up.

“Hey! SO!” Daren started in, physically butting between Dib and Zim. Dib caught Zim’s body flinch into a frozen statue for a split second as he fought his fight response. It was a trait the others seemed to have completely missed. “Dib says you’re stronger than you look. You lift weights or do aerobics or something? Secretly ripped or on drugs?”

“Daren. Sorry, he doesn’t know how to ask questions without… sounding like that.”

“Like that?” Zim parrots.

“An ass.” Eric surmises, taking a swig from his cup. Zim hadn’t noticed anything in the boys’ tone, though he did concede to himself that Dib may have been onto something about learning human interactions.

Zim was suddenly reminded of what Daren had actually said and glowered at Dib. “Ah. …Did he now?”

Dib started to sweat, rubbing nervously at his arm as Zim stared him down blankly. “Ahm. Uh. Maybe.”

Zim knew Dib wouldn’t risk exposing him—now. He did wonder just how much the boy had revealed in his bragging. His question was partially answered when Daren was in his face again.

“Could you lift me? Like, I weigh almost 250, so could you? Chunk can lift at least 300-”

Zim grabbed Daren by the back of his jacket, lifting him high enough to be kicking for the ground. He had started with one hand, switching to both when he saw a panic rise in Dib’s expression. Daren had hooted and started to holler when Zim lifted him, prompting his experience cut short as Zim dropped him back to the ground in the hopes he’d stop. He didn’t.

Dib guided him over to the others to deal with his excitements, taking up his spot beside Zim again. Zim’s antennae were now firmly planted into his skull, desperate to escape the noise soon. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like it’d be possible just yet as Eric jumped in to ask Zim to do more feats. By the end of it all Zim had lifted all four boys (and comically Dib had been the easiest), partially lifted a sofa (stopping when Dib started to shake his head), the weights in the garage, portions of the wrought iron patio set, and the TV with the stand. He’d made sure to gauge how difficult to make it appear based upon Dipper’s own silent expressions. When it came to the fridge being a challenge, Dib finally intervened in the shenanigans.

“Ok, how about you guys get a beer or two and come back? Get me a punch, I’m thirsty.”

“Will do,” Abed said, patting Dib’s shoulder. He paused as he passed Zim. He made a notion to ask a question Zim already had the answer to.

“No.”

“Fair enough. Three beers and a punch; got it!”

Zim watched him weave between the bodies across the house. Eric and Daren had started to talk to themselves, leaving Dib open to Zim alone. Zim eyed the fridge. He could easily lift it and throw it through the window, if he wished. He’d silently been enjoying awing the three boys. It had been a nice and brief stroke to his ego that he wouldn’t have refused—party or no party. If it meant he could show the humans he should be left alone, he was glad to demonstrate. Daren turned to the two just as Zim was ready to take Dib somewhere quiet.

“That explains how you could launch Chunk like you did.”

“Hm? Oh. That. Yes. Honestly, the student body hasn’t forgotten that yet?” Zim asked. He was only partly interested in the answer. In truth he had almost forgotten the entire encounter until it had resurfaced the previous evening. Eric was shaking his head frantically.

“No! How could we! That was awesome!”

“Like a movie!”

“Or a cartoon. Or anime. Or a stunt!”

“Truly a marvel.”

As the two played off one another Zim eyed Dib. He seemed to be enjoying their banter, making Zim’s want to leave feel more and more like an inconvenience to the boy who’d thought to invite him in the first place. Zim was beginning to care less about that fact, however, as he felt more and more eyes trained on him thanks to the strength show. He was being assaulted by noise, eyes, and smells that he did not enjoy.

Abed reappeared, dispersing the drinks. Zim took the moment to slide down the wall. Dib took notice first, and perhaps only, as his friends started in on the topic of ‘bigfoot’ and their local forest. Dib sat next to him, swishing the punch around in his cup.

“You look more than a little miserable,” he began. He gave the drink a sniff and then paused before holding it out to the Irken. Zim took one sniff and turned his nose up.

“Eugh. It has the same smell on the breaths of these creatures. Just muffled.”

Dib groaned, setting the cup onto a nearby table edge. He was lanky enough now that it hardly needed any effort to achieve. “Spiked. Of course.”

“Does Dib-stink not partake in the drinking pastime?” Zim asked. Dib shook his head.

“No. I don’t like the idea of inebriating my own brain.”

“Zim is glad we can agree on that,” Zim said. He started to rub a temple, feeling the dull ache of a headache permeating into his senses. It had taken it long enough. Zim was surprised it hadn’t started sooner in the night. He was estimating how long he’d been at the affair to see if it was acceptable to leave when Dib nudged his arm with his elbow.

“Are you feeling ok?” Dib asked. Zim shrugged.

“It’s loud. And stinks. And people were staring.” Zim explains gruffly. Dib takes a cursory glance around the room. Most of the eyes had turned away, but he did catch a few, who just as hastily turned their gazes elsewhere.

“Let’s go upstairs. It’s usually emptier during these.”

Zim wasted no time following Dib up the stairs, nearly passing him to get to the top. Dib was patient with the Irken. He led him as far back as the hall would allow. The music was significantly quieter up here. There was also a significantly less amount of people. In total with him and Zim, Dib could only count five. All three of those were on the stairs on their way up. Zim slid down this wall as well, sighing.

“Finally, reprieve.”

“If you were that uncomfortable we could have come up here sooner.” Dib offered, sliding down next to him.

“Eeeh. Zim will admit to enjoying the strength show for your club mates. The noise however, was too much. Zim could hear that infernal music from blocks away. At least it is lessened here. Zim can relax his antennae again.” Zim explained, entering into one of his rambles. It had been years since Dib had seen him slip into one that wasn’t related to conquest. He let the alien continue, unperturbed by the noise. It was better than listening to the nearly insufferably loud music downstairs.

“May Zim ask a question?”

Dib snapped back to reality. “Hm? Oh, yeah, what?”

“Why is the upper level scarce?” Zim asked, rubbing his headache away.

“Oh, um… well, I guess because of what the upstairs is used for at most of these,” Dib explained. Too vaguely for Zim’s liking.

“And?” he prompted.

“Couples usually come up here for… uh…. Quality time?” Dib said. It was a feeble attempt to keep from saying what was embarrassing for him to want to describe to the Irken. Despite Zim having already brought that topic up to him already. 

“For sex.”

He was always so blunt.

“Yes, Zim,” Dib confirmed, burying his face in his hands.

“Ah. Is that why those teens on the stairs snickered once we’d come down the hall?” Zim asked.

“What? When did they…” Dib trailed off when he recalled Zim’s hearing. Even under the muffler that was his wig it was exceptionally higher than his own. “Oh. Probably. They think it’s funny for some reason. I don’t get it, personally.”

“Does Dib care?”

“About what they think? No. I’m applying to college out of state, so I’ll probably never see them again unless it’s for reunions,” Dib explained, flicking some lint off his pants. He’d applied to seven schools as it was. An eighth tomorrow.

“Zim… had forgotten about that “cool-edge” business.” Zim admitted. He drew his knees up to his chest.

“You haven’t applied any… no, wait, you wouldn’t have. It’s not mandatory and you’re an alien. I kind of… forgot that you wouldn’t be.”

“How does Dib-stink forget that obvious fact?” Zim asked incredulously.

“I just did! …Did you want to come with me? We could get off-campus housing. Dad’s paying for it, so it’s not like I can’t afford it,” Dib explained.

“Your parental unit is paying for your hobby??”

Dib laughed boisterously. “Never. I’m taking science courses to go into Astro-Physics. I want to be the first person to get us past the moon. Past Mars, even!”

Dib was getting excited again. Zim smiled at his enthusiasm. Science was a commendable field, on par with joining the Invader Force on Irk. To do anything else would have been a waste on Dib’s intelligence. “Zim would be lying if Zim didn’t admit there’d been… consideration for the astronomy field. Zim could get your species past Jupiter within the first year.”

“I don’t doubt that,” Dib says. He started to drum his palms on his knees. “Would you want to do the same courses?”

“Mm. Sure.” Zim muses. “What cool-edges did you apply to?”


	26. Empire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was re-reading old chapters and I was reminded of something I never covered that I completely forgot about but always wanted to address. Whoops. Hope you enjoy this smaller chapter, I needed to do a smaller one after that longer one.

Zim kicked open his base door, flopping onto the couch immediately. His PAK did the work of taking off his disguise as Dib shut the door and sat beside him with a sigh. Zim turned his head to face the TV. He hummed and his PAK’s top spot opened, a small speaker poking out. The music that started to play was calm, and Dib took a moment to recognize it was the music from the India band he’d shown Zim.

“Zim has decided he does not enjoy the parties. Too, too loud.” Zim complains, kicking up a leg and letting it drop to emphasize his point. Dib had to begrudgingly agree. Even the music Zim was playing was at a low volume. Despite this, his antenna were still bobbing to the beats.

“Yeah…. Not as fun as they all make it seem. Then again, I am kind of an introvert.” Dib confessed.

“Dib-stink, you are far too energized for that,” Zim retorts, closing his eyes.

“First off, I’m shocked you know what an introvert is. Secondly, introverts can be energized; I just don’t prefer crowds or people. I mean, I can handle them, I just don’t go out to join any.” Dib explained, kicking off his shoes. Zim copied him, his own boots hitting the floor with thuds. He stretched his claws and sighed contently.

“Dib-stink.”

“Hm?”

“Your world is run very oddly.”

Dib paused in stretching his own toes. “…That was a weird structure for that sentence, but I get what you said. Why do you say that?”

“Your governments are so…” Zim waved his hands in the air. “Broken apart. Your species has how many forms of government?”

“In practice?”

“Yes. … Wait, there are MORE??” Zim questioned incredulously. Dib snorted. 

“Throughout human history? Yes. In current practice, however, there’s…” Dib started to count on his fingers. “…about 5 that are the most common. But that’s not including chiefdoms or smaller ones like that. There’s democracy, a republic, a dictatorship, a communist nation, a monarchy, an oligarchy—wait, that’s six.”

Zim groaned loudly, throwing an arm over his face. “You can’t even keep them straight!!”

“Hey, there are a lot of cultures and countries out there, give me a break. I don’t know them all. It’s a lot of information to keep track of. I don’t have a computer stapled to my back.” Dib shoots back. Zim grunts, a smirk forming on his face.

“Touché.”

“Why do you even care? You live in a country with a democracy-based government; one of the best ones you could have chosen to hide out in.”

“Irkens follow our Tallest, no one else. They are the pinnacle of rule for the Empire. It is much more stream lined.” Zim explains. Dib grimaced.

“Aren’t they idiots?” he asks. Zim flinched, lowering his arm to glare at Dib. Dib was giving him a shit-eating grin. When Zim’s glare grew he held his hands up. “I’m kidding! …Mostly. Okay, okay! I’m sorry!”

Zim retracted his fist, laying back down on the couch in his previous position. “Zim… does not totally disagree with Dib’s observation. The current Tallest are… very one-dimensional in their goals.”

“How do they get anything done?” Dib asks, kicking his legs; pondering if he could find anything consumable by humans in the Irken’s kitchen. He doubted if there was it wouldn’t have been tampered with my Gir yet. He heard Zim sigh. 

“Zim doesn’t even do the passive salute any longer…” Zim mumbles. 

Dib looked at him curiously as he started for the elevator. Dib followed him on impulse now, the ride down silent. He followed Zim to one of the many labs, sliding into a swivel chair as Zim started to set tools out on a table. He was flicking his antennae, captivating Dib to the point he reached up and it hit his finger tip in one of the motions. Zim jerked away and looked at him in surprise. Dib pulled his hand back, trying not to laugh.

“Sorry. Your antennae were flicking, I didn’t mean to.”

Zim huffed, shaking his shoulders. “Zim does not care.”

“What’d you mean by ‘passive salute’? …Zim, what are you doing?” Dib asked. Zim paused, having turned for some mechanical arms that had dropped from the ceiling. He perked up an inquisitive antennae.

“PAK maintenance.” He said nonchalantly as the arms latched into his PAK and it popped off his back. Dib jerked back, struggling to stay on the swivel chair as Zim caught the PAK and laid it down before him.

“WHY?!”

“…Because Zim needs to.” Zim answered just as nonchalantly. Dib gaped at him.

“But doesn’t that-”

“It does not hurt, Dib-stink. Yet. Zim has a timer. It is not the first time this has been done. It is a regular occurrence.” Zim explains, grabbing a tool and working on the inside of the PAK. Dib watched him for what felt like an hour until he scooted close again.

“Um…. So, what’s the purpose of the Tallest?” Dib asks, taking in the PAK now that he could see some of the inner workings of it. it was far more advanced than anything he’d built; or seen in his father’s own lab. Oh, how his father would react to knowing that.

“The Tallest are the leaders. As Zim said upstairs, it is efficient. They are… Zim does not wish to say ‘figure heads’, as Dib once referred to other nobility on this planet. They do give orders that must be followed. However, the Triumvirate oversee the court cases and Smeet production and memories of Irkens.” Zim explains, almost as an afterthought while he worked. Dib hummed curiously. “Essentially they oversee all of Irk and the Irken species. It is, as you can expect, a full time job.”

“How long has that been the system? I mean, if the Control Brains control the largest issues why aren’t they just the leaders?” Dib asks.

“Mmm…. Zim can’t check that time with his PAK removed. However, Zim does know that it is like… a checks and balances system for power. The Control Brains, mighty as they may be, are not mobile. And are kept on Irk. They do not leave the planet.”

Dib snorted, garnering Zim’s attention for a moment. He raised an antennae at him. “It’s just. What if the planet blows up, or there’s a nuclear melt down or something? Here we’re kind of doomed, but your species has space travel. Can’t they figure out a way to move themselves?”

“Zim does not have the patience for…. Well… Zim would lie if he said he’d had not considered that. But the Control Brains thought it unnecessary.” Zim admitted, returning to his PAK. He switched his tool out for two more. Dib eyed the device wearily.

“What’s your timer at?”

“Four minutes… twenty-eight seconds.”

Dib hummed. He refrained from looking at Zim’s back. He wasn’t eager to have THAT question answered just yet. Dib realized he’d zoned out when Zim suddenly picked his PAK up. Dib looked up at him, shocked to see his skin had grown fainter. The PAK slid back onto his back, Zim grunting and sliding into a chair of his own.

“How long did you have that off?” Dib asked worriedly.

“Six minutes and forty-eight seconds.” Zim says. He set his forehead against a palm, the arm propped up on the table by the elbow. “Zim does not feel well.”

“But you’re going to be fine, right?”

“Zim will recover within minutes.” Zim said, waving him off. Dib looked him over once; but decided against pushing the Irken. 

“You said that it kills anything else that tries to use it, does that happen to other Irkens?” Dib asked. Zim cracked an eye open at him. He smirked.

“Do not be ridiculous. Suitable PAKs are recyclable. However, the need for PAK replacement is rare. If a PAK is that damaged, it’s vital systems are likely also damaged; and that Irken is already dying.”

“That’s… cynical.”

“It is a cynical topic. You are essentially asking if a body transplant is something feasible. Is it for humans?” Zim questions. Dib scoffed at him.

“No.”

“Zim figured.”

“Then why ask? Ugh, never mind.” Dib sighed, waving it off. “So, about that term passive salute. What’s that mean?”

“Ah… When showing the Almighty Tallest respect Irkens will wiggle our antennae. Zim… has noticed it happening less and less when the Tallest cross my mind.”

“Well…. They did betray you, so…” Dib trailed off, biting his lip. Zim’s eyes narrowed, but not towards him. He was grateful, because he enjoyed having all his limbs. Zim instead eventually sighed and laid his head down.

“The Triumvirate would have made that decision,” Zim begins. “Zim went against a direct assignment.”

“YOU?”

Zim groaned. “Yes, Dib-stink.”

“But wouldn’t it have been some Invader assignment? Or weapons development? Did you say those were your jobs?”

“Zim said those were jobs, yes. They were not… Zim’s last job.”

“What was so bad you defied a direct order?” Dib asked incredulously.

Zim was silent. He was questioning heavily telling Dib any of this information. While it wouldn’t be of use to the human—now—it was… a sore subject, to say the least. He was in no mood to revisit that chapter of his life. But he was also in no mood to push it off and withstand this line of questioning inevitably later when Dib’s curiosity grew again.

“Zim… was one such court case with the Triumvirate.” He confessed. Dib balked at him.

“HUH??”

“Zim’s… enthusiasm with weapons development may have… clouded his judgement temporarily. And I may have… forgotten the robot I had been piloting was still on Irk during Operation Impending Doom I.”

Dib start to laugh, loudly, giving Zim a slight throb in one of his temples. He rubbed at it, already regretting his decisions for this entire weekend.

“You—HA—you actually!!” Dib managed between wheezes. He started to choke, that action being the only reason Zim could discern that he stopped laughing. “I didn’t think you had a record!”

“Is Dib implying he does NOT have a record with the local police?” Zim questioned, already knowing the most likely answer. His suspicions were confirmed when Dib suddenly clammed up. He looked away sheepishly, pouting.

“Okay, so I might have a small one. But, they’re all misdemeanors. I never destroyed a portion of my own planet.”

“In Zim’s defense Zim blew up more than any other Invader,” Zim says. He had a flash of when he’d tried that defense against Red. It hadn’t worked then. He was not surprised it still did not work now, even against Dib.

“I don’t think that counts when what you’re blowing up is your own race.” Dib teases. Zim glared at him.

“Red felt the same…” he grumbled. “Technically, Zim was banished, this being the first time. But when Zim heard of Operation Impending Doom II, ZIM WOULD NOT PASS THAT UP!!”

Dib watched Zim point at him in his declaration, a wide smile on his face. Dib gently pushed the hand away, leaning back in his seat. “Yeah, but you still blew up Irk.”

“Zim did not destroy Irk, Zim merely…. Um… only significantly damaged it…” Zim said, his voice growing quieter as he realized the correction wasn’t much better. He smacked his head against the table, the headache returning. “Zim addresses his mistakes.”

“I mean…” Dib’s smile grew. “You did still beat out the other Invaders.”


	27. Waves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been in my head for too long and I wanted it so here it is, mateys. Bit of a short one, but, it was just a small idea I wanted to explore!

Zim stared at the glass, unsure what the appeal was. About half the students around him shared a similar consensus; doing something else rather than stare into the glass. The blue lights were calming, yet kept Zim’s brain active, a sensation he didn’t quite understand but also didn’t quite mind. Like many things he’d found on this dirt ball, it was confusing, yet captivating. The water sent undulating light over the students, something Zim hadn’t seen outside his own labs. Dib popped up beside him, chewing on a piece of candy. He offered another to Zim, who took it without glancing at what it was.

“Do you like it?” Dib asked.

“The ‘aquarium’?” Zim asked back. Dib swallowed and pressed his empty hand to the glass.

“Yeah. Seeing the fish?”

Zim hummed. He liked the fish. He had grabbed fish from water sources before. He’d seen the ocean, in the dead of night grabbing squids and octopus from its depths in his Voot Cruiser, but he’d never known the wide array of species that the planet’s oceans held.

“Zim is…. Conflicted.”

Dib finished off his candy, throwing the wrapper in a nearby bin. “Why? I always thought it was beautiful. Especially the tunnel.”

One of Zim’s antennae perked up at the mention of a tunnel under his wig. “Because of what it is.”

“…Elaborate.”

“Zim sees a lot of color, the dancing light, the movements, the water…. Zim is conflicted.” Zim explained, pawing the candy. He unconsciously started to unwrap it. “Your planet has such diversity. Zim envies it.”

“Because of Irk?”

“Partly.” Zim confessed. “Irk had lost its oceans long before Zim was a smeet.”

“Well… we’re starting to get a better idea of how to keep from doing that for ours,” Dib began. “Want to see it up close?”

“See what up close?”

“The fish. They swim overhead in the tunnel, come on.” Dib grabbed Zim by the arm, guiding him along the throng of students until the herd had thinned to the point they could walk side by side. 

Zim looked around at each tank and enclosure, where more and more fish were swimming by in the reefs. One had a scuba diver cleaning a portion of the tank. He waved at them as they passed by, Zim awkwardly returning the gesture while Dib did so eagerly. Dib suddenly motioned him to the right, where a large amount of blue light was shining around a corner. Dib led him into the hall. Zim halted at the corner, looking out at the tunnel. 

On one side was a bench that was built into the wall, running the length of the tunnel. Seaweed and portions of reef were framing sections of the sand on either side, the top open and occasionally brushed by the seaweed as the current passed in another wave. Fish were swimming overhead, along the sides, and the bottom. A massive shark, one Dib had called a ‘hammer head’ passed over the entryway. Zim caught larger fish staying near the sand. He could see the water rippling overhead, a mantra ray coming into view, turning sharply at the sight of the shark as it meandered along the upper portion of the tank. Dib rejoined his side, pushing his chin up to close his mouth. Zim jerked and blinked himself back to reality. He wandered over to the bench, settling on his knees to peer into the glass.

“Like it?” Dib asked.

“This is… far better than in the Cruiser,” Zim admitted. Dib had to think for a moment before remembering the various squids and octopi he’d seen in Zim’s lab over the years. He hummed, an idea forming in his head.

“You know this isn’t how most fish live?” Dib asked. Zim gave him an exasperated look. “Right. Well, do you want to see it a different way?”

“…How so?”

\--- ---

Zim stood, his clawed toes digging into the sand. Dib was tossing his shoes into the Voot Cruiser, beaming in his own pride, with his T-shirt still hanging off his shoulders. Zim looked around the beach; seeing no other soul save a hermit crab slowly crawling its way through the sand.

“You can relax, no one else will be here. It’s deserted.” Dib explained. It was the third reassurance he’d had to give to Zim. Zim regrettably took his attention off his surroundings. He watched Dib warily as he waded into the water up to his knees.

Dib motioned for him to follow.

“It won’t hurt you. You took like four paste showers before we left.”

“Zim is aware.” Zim replies curtly. 

Dib doesn’t lessen his smile or lower his hand. Zim stiffened his resolve and walked to the edge of the water. It lapped at his toes, staying true to the paste baths, without burning his skin. He started to wade out more, feeling his skin prickle at the knowledge he was willingly surrounding himself in water. He reached Dib, his nerves firing on all cylinders despite knowing his skin was protected and despite knowing he could launch himself out of the water if necessary. Dib guided him next to him. The sand they’d kicked up already being settled by the waves. 

“Ok, now we just wait.”

Zim blinked at the water. “Wait for what?”

“For the fish. They should come back once the sand settles and we don’t move our legs,” Dib explained.

Zim figured he could do that. He had a wealth of patience to utilize. He still found himself thankful that it didn’t take hours for the fish to return. Slowly, one by one and then in groups, the fish began to swim around them. Some would become daring, getting up close to their feet to inspect them. Others got close enough to realize something about what they saw and would swim away. Zim blamed that they could see their legs move past the water’s surface. Regardless, he found himself mesmerized by the creatures. Their fluid drifting through the water, with their speed changing in an instant at the slightest spook. Gliding as if there was nothing in their way, as if they were in the air. He squatted down, sitting in the sand. The plume of sand scattered the fish. Dib made a laughing noise, sitting next to Zim in the water. 

“Enjoy watching them?”

“This is much better than the Voot Cruiser AND the aquarium.”

Dib smiled, leaning back to bask in the sun until Zim was satisfied. He wasn’t expecting to remain in the water for the next seven hours until the sun was setting. The cold temperature of the water finally forcing Zim to retreat to the shore. Dib decided he’d have to bring Zim back again. It was still odd to see the Irken calm. It was interesting.


End file.
